“I’m unaccustomed to scolding, but I have to say I am rather disappointed with the lot of you.”

Glory, indeed, did not look upset with them, but only pensive. Regardless, the assembled apprentices mostly lowered their eyes abashedly in response. Schwartz and Ami exchanged a glance, he uncertainly, she with an arched eyebrow.

Darius cleared his throat. “Yes, well…in our defense…”

“In your defense,” Glory said with a languid little smile, “you are neophyte Guild members, without personal sponsors or the likelihood of obtaining such, and your experiences have given you cause to be somewhat paranoid. Still, I should have thought the overarching lesson of your last round of troubles was that the Guild can be trusted to have your back when enemies are pursuing you. I seem to recall that was settled in part by several senior members who do not get along rallying together to defend you.”

“It’s a fair criticism,” Jasmine agreed with a sigh.

Schwartz cleared his throat. “Yes, well… I don’t know much about Guild philosophy, but as an outsider I have a hard time seeing where you’re coming from. I mean, every cult should have the assumption that members would support one another, right? And…the entire problem here is that some individuals are turning against their cults via some kind of…” He trailed off, looking flustered, as Glory turned an inquisitive gaze on him.

“If anything,” Ami observed, “the Guild’s practice of deliberately fostering competition, I should think, would make them more susceptible.”

“It’s about a statement of core philosophy,” Rasha said, in the quiet but controlled tone she had been cultivating. “Each religion is about something specific, something beyond a simple group identity. Whether members do or don’t back one another in a crisis is in service to that idea. In the case of the Thieves’ Guild, it’s about resisting corruption and overweening ambition. Glory’s right, but…so are you.”

“Listen to you,” Tallie said fondly, lightly touching Rasha’s hair. “Lecturing us on theology now! Apprenticeship’s done you a world of good.” She and Layla had perched on either side of Glory’s apprentice, who had taken a position in the center of the couch and sat with deliberately demure, almost regal posture. Rasha had changed a great deal in the month since moving out of the apprentice dormitory; every time they visited she seemed to be experimenting with a different style of clothing, which had ranged from androgynous to almost excessively feminine. Today’s was closer to the latter end of the spectrum, an embroidered robe cut and padded to suggest curved lines. Despite the obvious growth of her self-confidence, though, Rasha plainly felt more comfortable with the physical proximity of girls than the boys, a fact which Tallie and Layla in particular seemed to have immediately picked up on.

“Well, let’s not turn this into a theological discussion,” Glory advised, smiling wryly at them. “Those are tedious even when they don’t turn into arguments. What’s done is done and I’m not interested in recrimination; that’s Style’s job.”

“I suppose,” Glory continued thoughtfully, “I am partially to blame for your general predicament. Being too closely associated with well-established Guild members is, according to the scuttlebutt, largely why none of you have been approached by potential sponsorship despite several of you being very promising.”

“If by blame,” said Jasmine, “you refer to you helping save our lives, I assure you no one here objects.”

“Hear, hear,” Ross grunted.

“Still, that aspect of the situation is worth considering,” Glory said. She glanced at Rasha, and a knowing smile passed between them.

“Uh oh,” Darius accused. “You two are scheming something.”

“Not even subtly,” Rasha replied, smirking.

“For the time being,” Glory said, “let’s return to the matter at hand. I was not aware of a conspiracy such as you describe, but between Mr. Schwartz’s adventures within the Collegium and this Sister Ildrin trying to waylay you, it’s clear that some such thing must be afoot.”

“People often misunderstand the nature of a conspiracy,” said Glory. “They are, by definition, things of short duration and limited membership; depending as they do upon secrecy, exposure becomes more inevitable the longer they go on and the more people become involved. Shadowy groups blamed for a wide range of problems are mostly a myth, but conspiracies happen all the time. By the same token, even someone such as myself, who takes great pains to be in on all the gossip, is unlikely to learn of such a group. More significantly, this means that while I can easily point you to a number of figures in various cults who are known to be Church sympathizers, it is very unlikely that most of them are involved.”

“Do you have…any ideas?” Jasmine asked hesitantly.

“Well, first of all,” Glory replied with that knowing little smile of hers, “you are off to a decent start by coming to me, because what we need to do is involve the Guild. Here we have a secretive group clearly trying to amass and abuse power; putting a stop to nonsense of this kind is exactly why the Guild exists.”

“Noted,” Ross said, nodding emphatically.

“Second,” their hostess continued, “we must pare down the prospects. I believe you had the idea to use your divinations, Mr. Schwartz?”

“Ah, yes,” he said, absently patting Meesie, who was being unusually quiet and docile while in Glory’s house. “My craft can help us narrow down prospects more than identify specific individuals, so if you have other thoughts…”

“In fact, I have,” she replied, settling back in her armchair in a manner subtly evocative of a queen upon her throne. “There are more mundane methods, of course. I gather that Mr. Schwartz and Miss Talaari have your trust in this matter, apprentices?”

“Ami has been very helpful to us,” Tallie said sweetly. “I don’t know what we’d do without her.”

Meesie began squeaking violently, and actually tumbled off Schwartz’s shoulder to the arm of his chair, where she rolled around on her back, squealing with mirth. He sighed; Ami just gave Tallie a cool sidelong look.

“Then in the meantime,” Glory said, “we will pursue established leads. Mr. Schwartz, how was it you first learned rumors of this embezzlement activity within your cult?”

He straightened up, frowning slightly. “Well… Sort of related to how I met these guys, actually. Bishop Throale was interested in making, um, less than official contacts within the Guild, like my friends here. He was securing some reagents that might be profitable in black market dealings to try to… Actually maybe I wasn’t supposed to mention that.” He swallowed, glancing over at the windows. Ami rolled her eyes.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Glory said pleasantly. “Go on?”

“Well, so, because of that, he and I were more involved in the Collegium’s reagent stocks than either of us would normally be and he mentioned some things seemed to be going missing. Records not adding up with inventory, boring stuff like that. The Bishop didn’t seem concerned but I went and double-checked and yes, there were some enchanting supplies gone…the specific ones used for bladed weapon and armor maintenance charms. Stuff you don’t see much anymore, only the Silver Legions use them in any quantity. I mentioned it to them,” he gestured at the apprentices, “and Jasmine had apparently…well, there we’re past my part in it, so, y’know.”

Schwartz frowned and chewed his lip while Meesie climbed back up his sleeve to her perch. “Um. Well, Suvi Mosvedhi is in charge of the magical storehouses overall. She has lots of people working under her and I hardly know any of them. Let’s see… Carruthers Treadwell was the specific fellow who coordinated with the Avenists on exchanges…”

“Carruthers Treadwell.” Glory leaned forward suddenly, grinning. “Who, just yesterday, was abruptly pulled from his duties by the Chancellor of the Collegium for reasons which are not known outside its walls. It seems we have our in.”

“Who’s this guy?” Ross asked. “And how’re we gonna…in him?”

“Simple,” Glory said with a satisfied smirk. “I am having a little soiree tonight, as I do most evenings. I shall simply ensure that he is present. As will be the lot of you.”

“Um.” Schwartz hesitantly raised a hand. “Carruthers is a bit of a houseplant. I’ve never heard of him attending a social event voluntarily.”

“He has never had Tamisin Sharvineh desire his presence,” she said glibly. “It’s as good as done.”

“Meanwhile,” Rasha added, “that gives us only a few hours to get you lot into some suitable clothes.”

“Ooh!” Layla and Ami both straightened up with sudden smiles.

Jasmine, on the other hand, went a shade paler. “Oh, hell.”

It was a much truncated group which went to meet the Guild’s emissary. Only the queen and Principia had been requested, but Ruda inserted herself into the party; her mother expressed approval at this, while Principia wisely kept her thoughts to herself.

The seneschal conducted them to the Rock’s throne room, where their guest had been asked to wait. It was smaller and generally less grandiose than its counterpart in Tiraas, its stone walls decorated only with banners and old weapons. Even the throne was little more than a large wooden chair, made from the timbers of the ship once captained by a long-ago Punaji king. Narrow windows along one side of the room admitted afternoon sunlight, augmented by strategically placed modern fairy lamps.

There were few seats in the room, just benches along the walls, but their guest had been led to one of these. A small folding table had been brought and laid out with tea and a plate of small sandwiches and pastries, with a servant attending closely. This likely wasn’t usual policy for guests in the throne room, but one glance at Quinn Lagrande banished any question as to its necessity.

Her lined face and pale gray hair revealed her advanced age even without the heavy stoop she suffered despite being seated. Incongruously, she was dressed like a frontier adventurer, with an open-collared shirt and trousers tucked into heavy boots. A wide leather belt around her waist carried a holstered wand and a dagger. At their arrival, Lagrande braced herself with one hand on a hickory cane and stood with a small grunt of effort.

“There you are,” she said before any of them could speak, her voice scratchy with age but still strong. “I gather I interrupted something important?”

“Mm hm,” Lagrande said, giving the elf a wry look. “Oh, we go way back. I hope you’ll pardon me if I don’t kneel, your Majesty. The spirit is willing, but the spine and knees lack respect for authority.”

“I’d feel obligated to stop you if you tried,” Anjal said, smiling with genuine amusement. “And if you must be formal, I prefer Captain to Majesty. I damn well earned that one. What can we do for you?”

“At issue here is what we can do for you,” the old woman replied, shifting her focus to Principia. “Keys, where the hell have you been? You’ve been in town almost two days and for some damned reason we had to seek you out. Taking in the sights?”

“I’ve seen all the sights long ago, and climb down outta my nose, Heckle,” Principia retorted, folding her arms. “You were on the agenda, trust me. My squad was just heading your way when this most admirable young lady press-ganged us.” She cocked a thumb at Ruda, who tipped her hat.

“Yep, I’ll take the blame for that one. When Principia Locke shows up in town, I figured it was best to put a boot on her neck before the situation got even worse. Sounds like you know what I mean.”

“Heh.” Lagrande grinned at her. To judge by their yellowed state, they were all her original teeth. “That’s not a ‘general principles’ action toward a veteran member of the Thieves’ Guild. What’d she do to you?”

“I think you had something to tell us?” Principia said irritably.

“Nothing major, she just tried to drug me that one time.”

“You tried to drug a member of the Punaji royal family?” Lagrande turned an incredulous stare on Principia. “How in the hell has nobody killed you yet, Keys?”

“Oh, that’s rich. Look who’s asking who how she’s still alive—”

“HEY.” Anjal was accustomed to belting orders on deck in a storm; at that range she could be positively deafening. “If you Eserites wanted to put on a minstrel show, there are plenty of street corners not being preached on right now. Did you come here for a reason other than that, Lagrande?”

“Of course, your…Captain. Humble apologies.” Far from looking contrite, the old woman grinned unabashedly. “Yes, you’re right. We do have important information, which was being held for Keys, here, but then the Princess and her friends picked her up and we decided this had better not wait. To begin with, for the benefit of the young and the foreign in this audience, are you aware of just why so many of the Rust’s upper echelons have artificial limbs?”

“True.” Lagrande nodded. “That’s definitely part of their motivation. I guess I should have asked why they have such a need for them.”

“Most of them are the Broken,” Anjal said in a much quieter tone. Principia gave her a neutral look, but Ruda frowned in open confusion. “This was well before your time, Zari, and be thankful for that. It used to be common practice for beggars on the docks to use children to mooch from the merchants. Children are inherently more sympathetic, and they sometimes made them more so by deliberately maiming them. Cutting out eyes, hacking off limbs.”

“Holy fuck,” Ruda whispered.

Anjal clenched her jaw. “Your grandfather addressed this problem by creatively punishing anyone he caught doing it, which of course did not help. It was thanks to your father’s early actions that no one in your generation has had to suffer this.”

“What actions?” she asked. “I mean, if…”

“That’s the thing about governing,” the queen said with a sigh. “What works is rarely spectacular or romantic. If you want to put a stop to begging, you have to make sure that people have better things to do, and that doing them is worth their time. He did increase patrols on the docks, but more importantly he instituted economic reforms, created jobs, aggressively courted the dwarves and Narisians to engage in maritime trade through Puna Dara… All the boring shit that actually improves people’s lives. Such reforms are often hard to push through because whenever there has been an impoverished underclass for a long time, there are wise old men who think the problem with the poor is that they’re lazy and just won’t be helped.” She curled her lip contemptuously. “Arrogant bullshit, unworthy of a Punaji. People inherently want to work. We all have a need to create, to act, to contribute; the single most important thing for human happiness is taking responsibility for one’s own life. If society lets people do this, they’ll do their part. There will always be a few layabouts and general assholes, but they are a bare minority.”

“Our underboss is one of the Broken,” Lagrande added. “Fang gets around on one leg and one arm. He was never approached, though. The Rust are strategic; like all fringe movements they started by targeting the vulnerable, which didn’t include Eserites. But I didn’t bring it up just to make conversation. How’d you like to know where their secret headquarters is?”

Anjal scowled. “Is that all you came here for? They operate out of a warehouse on the docks. It’s not a secret.”

“Wrong!” Lagrande said gleefully, thumping her cane on the floor for emphasis. “That’s where they openly operate from, and there’s nothing in there but religious wacko paraphernalia. Places to keep and feed people, some administrative apparatus. But their true home, that’s all tied in with the sad, stupid story of the Broken. They’ve got a place in the old mines, and that has to be where they keep the crazy shit that makes their crazy magic work. Does the kid need a refresher on this as well?”

“The kid has a name,” Ruda retorted.

“Yes, a shiny new one,” said Anjal, giving her a disgruntled look. “But she’s right, Zari. When Broken kids got too old to be cute anymore, a lot of them were sent to work the mines in the mountains outside the city.”

“Whoah, what mines?” Ruda demanded, frowning. “I was always told we didn’t do much mining.”

“We don’t, but not because we can’t. There are minerals in those mountains; copper, mostly, some iron and gems. But Puna Dara has always done more business in trade than production, and we’ve prospered especially in the last ten years by cornering the market on the Five Kingdoms’ maritime trade. Your father managed that, in part, by closing down our domestic mining operations and buying minerals from the dwarves. After what the treaty between Tiraas and Tar’naris did to them, that bought enormous goodwill. So.” She turned a thoughtful gaze on Lagrande. “There are mines and quarries around Puna Dara, and nearly all are abandoned. And, not being idiots, we regularly have them patrolled and searched.”

“In a pretty cursory fashion,” Lagrande agreed, thumping her cane again. “A mine’s a great place to hide stuff.”

“How is it you know this, when the Punaji don’t?” Principia asked.

“Same way we knew you’d spent your time in Puna Dara visiting the Avenists, creeping on the street preachers, and hounding after rumors in dockside bars instead of coming to us,” Lagrand replied acidly. “The Thieves’ Guild in this city is six old grayhairs and two very bored apprentices led by a cripple. The last damn thing we’re about to do is climb up into the mountains our damn selves and then climb down into some godforsaken mineshaft after insane cultists who wield impossible magics. But what we can do is know things.” She grinned fiendishly. “Even after you sent Peepers off to the Empire—and by the way, asshole, thank you so much—we are connected in this city and the bulk of what we do is listening and watching. Anybody hears a rumor that even might be valuable to anybody else, they bring it to the Guild.”

“So we weren’t about to go after them,” Lagrande continued. “And we specifically have not shared this information with the Avenists or the Punaji government after what happened to the Fourth Silver Legion. Because they’d have no choice but to take action, and that would’ve ended…pretty damn badly. But!” The old woman grinned savagely and thumped her cane for emphasis. “Speaking of things we know, now it seems you’ve got two paladins, a dryad, and the biggest, meanest demon to walk the earth in a thousand years. And that’s another matter, isn’t it?”

Justinian always made time in his schedule to think; quite apart from the necessity of his meditations in keeping his mind calm and alert under the pressure of his duties, he could not function without the ability to carefully lay plans. Reacting swiftly to events as they developed was fine and essential, but a man without his own strategies, attentively crafted, was at the mercy of fortune.

Even so, he cherished the few extra opportunities that came up to lose himself in thought. Time spent navigating the labyrinth deep under the Cathedral, for example… Or situations like this one, in which he could do nothing but wait.

He sat before the magic mirror, watching mist swirl meaninglessly within it, and considering the current situation.

Events in Puna Dara were developing faster than he had intended. Once again, Tellwyrn butting in had created this difficulty, though this time it was not an unforeseen development. Princess Zaruda’s intervention had always been a possibility, and while bringing her friends along was the worst case scenario, he had already mulled what to do in this event. Now, it seemed they might be on a course to demolish the Rust far too soon. He needed that to be a struggle; the allied forces of the Church, the Empire, the Punaji and the cults had to be bonded through shared adversity. That also meant the Rust had to be presented as a very credible threat. Their attack on the Silver Legions had done that, but he knew what it had cost them, and that those young titans would cleave through their ranks far too easily if allowed. They must endure long enough for all their enemies to unite against them. He had his current operation in Tiraas working to secure his good name with the Silver Throne, but after the incident with Rector’s machine there was far too much damage there for him to trust a single ploy to fix it.

Could he distract them? Unlikely, and risky. Anything else he did in Puna Dara could create complications that would threaten his own interests. If he could somehow peel the students, or at least a few of them—maybe even just one—away from the city for a while, that might suffice.

Even alone in his office, he maintained strict control, and so did not smile. But the Archpope permitted himself a slight softening of his expression as his agile mind seized upon a solution. An elegant one, which worked neatly alongside the matter to which he was now attending. It would cost him nothing but a little extra effort…

As if summoned by the shift in his thoughts, the mirror cleared, revealing the worried face of Lorelin Reich.

“Your Holiness,” she said in clear relief, bowing her head. “Thank you so much for this. I know it must be an imposition.”

“Lorelin,” he said with a gracious smile. “You have earned my trust many times over; if you send word that we must speak, I can only assume that it is so. What troubles you, child? I hope you are not endangering your good name with the Empire.”

“I fear…I may be,” she said, frowning, and Justinian took note of the open worry in her expression. A model Vidian, she was adept at concealing her true thoughts, usually. “Your Holiness… I am not working directly with Imperial Intelligence. The told me they’d call on me when I was needed, and when a Hand of the Emperor summoned me, I assumed that was it. But…” The priestess swallowed heavily. “I… This must sound crazy, I realize, but…I think this man is insane.”

Justinian put on an expression of deep concern and leaned forward, revealing none of his satisfaction. This business, at least, was proceeding according to plan and on schedule. “In what way?”

“At first I thought his machinations seemed inept because I didn’t know all the details,” she said, “but more and more… He seems to be trying to provoke a confrontation with Tellwyrn which there is no possible way he can win. I can’t imagine the Empire would do something so reckless, when they’ve handled her so carefully since the last Empress’s reign. And…it’s his personal conduct, your Holiness. I am accustomed to schemers, but I have been around mentally unstable people. This man is the latter. But I know that’s impossible. He is a Hand of the Emperor.”

Justinian drew in a deep breath, and let it out very slowly. “I…am extremely glad you have come to me with this, Lorelin. All right…what I am about to tell you must be strictly confidential. Do you understand?”

“Absolutely, your Holiness,” she replied, nodding eagerly.

“There was recently a problem with the Hands of the Emperor,” he stated. “The details don’t concern you and may be dangerous to know. What is important is that one of them may have gone rogue at the end of it.”

The color drained from her face.

“This is what you must do, Lorelin,” Justinian said earnestly. “Contact your handlers at Imperial Intelligence, and tell them what you just told me.”

“But…” The poor woman was clearly at her wit’s end; she forgot herself so far as to bite her lip. “Your Holiness, the Hand specifically instructed me to avoid contact with any other government entity.”

“Then,” Justinian said gently, “he is forcing you to violate the terms of parole. You were to remain in touch with Intelligence; by keeping you in communications silence in the last place they would look for you, he is hiding you from them. Tell them, Lorelin, exactly what you just did. You thought you were obeying the Silver Throne, but this man is dangerously unstable and may be creating instability in the Empire itself, which is what will result if a Hand of the Emperor overtly antagonizes Tellwyrn. She has, in fact, been working with Intelligence. I see little chance that they would want to move against her this way. Contact them in good faith and explain, and you will not only be upholding the terms of your plea bargain, you just might help save the Empire from one of its most immediate threats.”

Now it was she who inhaled and exhaled deeply, but nodded.

“What is he doing, exactly?”

“He’s stirring up the townspeople against Tellwyrn,” she said, frowning. “Which wouldn’t alarm me much as far as it goes, but with all the new construction and activity in Last Rock, plus the big cluster of foreign operatives up on the mountain itself… He doesn’t tell me everything, your Holiness, not by far. I know he has other assets. I don’t know what they might do, or can.”

Justinian nodded. “Then you will need to slow him down. Perhaps assist Tellwyrn in dealing with him.”

“I’m positive that he’ll know if I try to approach her.”

“I believe you,” he said with a reassuring smile. “Do not be so overt. I believe I can help you with this, Lorelin; you know as well as I that clever people can be shockingly easy to manipulate into error. It is often as simple as placing the right piece of information for the right person to find, and letting the rest of the dominoes fall. Once you tell this Hand who the Sleeper is, I suspect this whole matter may work itself out.”

“By that,” Toby said slowly, “do you mean its enchantments are still active?”

Fross chimed in annoyance. “They are, but no, if I had meant that I would have said that. I always try to be precise! What I mean is, I think this object is both artificially constructed and a living organism.”

“Okay,” he said. “Sorry, no offense meant.”

The pixie zoomed over to buzz affectionately around his head once. “I know, Toby, I’m sorry for getting irked. I’m in analytical mode, it makes me impatient.”

“Now, hang on!” Juniper exclaimed. “Something cannot be artificially made and still a living thing!”

“That is a fallacy,” Ariel’s voice interjected. “Such beings do not occur in nature, but there are ample specimens from the annals of magical history.”

“What the hell was that?” Merry exclaimed in alarm.

“Ariel.” Gabriel drew the black sword and held her up; her runes flickered a dull blue in the light. “She’s very particular about magical matters. Helpful, too, most of the time.”

He sighed and sheathed Ariel again. “Yes, I do, and nobody here had a hand in making her. We found her in the Crawl. Fross, you were telling us about that arm?”

“Yes, thank you!” the pixie exclaimed. “If everyone’s listening now? Okay, so I’ve analyzed this thing as carefully as possible in this timeframe and with this equipment and what I’ve discovered is that it is clearly a machine, it was not built by anybody who thinks the way any modern enchanter or engineer does, and as I said, its nature is more organic than mechanical despite being mechanical and made of minerals.”

“Yeah, can we focus on that part first?” Juniper suggested. “Because that doesn’t make a lick of sense to—”

Fross rose two feet toward the ceiling, her glow brightening significantly on the way, and emitted a wordless arpeggio of sheer irritation.

“Uh…” Juniper actually took a step back from the examining table. “Actually…why don’t you just go over it in…y’know, whatever order makes sense to you.”

“Thank you, Juniper,” Fross replied, drifting back down toward the subject of her research. “Anyway. First of all, the device itself is not enchanted, exactly. Its interior structure is a series of pretty simple cables and pulleys which stand in for muscles, ligaments, all that stuff. There are no inner bones, since of course the outer structure is rigid metal, so it’s organized differently. The enchantments are contained in tiny crystals affixed to each joint.”

“Forgive me for interrupting,” Gabriel said hesitantly. “But does that mean there’s no central enchantment at all?”

“Exactly!” Fross said, clearly growing excited again. “That’s the beauty of it! See, Juniper tore this one off at the elbow, which is probably why I can’t find an enchantment that makes it interface with the human body. The little crystals only govern each mechanism individually; that interface charm was probably on the piece attached right to the human. But! These enchantments are incredibly efficient compared to ours because they have no power component! They only carry instructions for the machine parts; the energy is conducted through a series of metal filaments encased in a rubber-like non-conductive medium. It runs on electricity, not magic!”

“I thought electricity was pretty much only good for weapons,” Casey said, leaning forward on her chair.

“It is good for weapons,” Farah replied, “but actually, the nervous systems of all living things run on tiny electrical charges. That’s why lightning wands tend to cause nerve damage and sometimes even brain disorders.”

“Exactly!” Fross said eagerly, swooping around the table in erratic circles. “These appear to draw their power directly from the body! Except it takes more energy to move metal than flesh simply because of its weight, so that wouldn’t exactly work, which makes me think there must be a power source of some kind with some much more sophisticated enchantments connected to the host body. But! In addition to being very alien in design, this thing is made of components that aren’t like anything I’ve ever seen. The different alloys used for the casing, the moving parts, the metal wires… I can’t even identify any of them. Likewise the insulating material; it’s like rubber, but obviously synthetic. And these enchantment crystals most of all! It’s like… This kind of enchantment does exist now, but modern data crystals are new and pretty rare, and also not nearly as efficient. These ones aren’t much bigger than grains of sand and anything I could make to do their job would be about the size of an average lightning wand’s power crystal.”

“So, it’s magic more sophisticated than anything known,” Anjal said, frowning. “With every new revelation I get more nervous about this Elder God business. Naphthene’s tits, these bastards are all over the city!”

“Well, it’s hard to compare that kind of sophistication directly,” Fross cautioned. “Compared to the state of modern industrial enchantment, yes. But that itself is very new; individual archmages throughout history were known to make stuff like this. Well, I mean, not like this necessarily, but things so amazing modern enchanters still don’t understand how they work. Magic mirrors, for instance. We even understand those, but they’re fiendishly hard and we haven’t yet cracked mass-production of them.”

“Or talking swords, for example,” Nandi said.

Gabriel turned to give her a flat look. “Is this going to become a problem?”

“I dearly hope not,” she replied, expressionless.

“Anyway!” Fross continued more loudly. “The really, really interesting part is the organic part! Yes, Juniper, I’m coming to it. Okay, so, one thing that jumped out at me is there’s nothing in there except the devices that make it move. The thing about anything with moving parts is that moving them wears them down; they require repair and maintenance. With engineered machines, you have to get into ’em and do it manually; biological organisms have built-in systems for maintenance, which is obviously more efficient and exactly why those organisms are so much more complex than any machine. So! What’s interesting here is that this device is clearly not designed to be dismantled! The pieces are solid, and even the ones that move connect firmly in a way that clearly isn’t meant to be disconnected. Therefore, since it has no way to access it internally to perform repairs, there has to be a built-in mechanism for that!”

“What if they don’t repair them?” Casey suggested. “Just…take ’em off and throw ’em away when they wear out.”

Fross shot upward in indignation. “Excuse me, but I refuse to believe any intelligence capable of creating a machine like this would make a design choice so inefficient, wasteful, and catastrophically stupid.”

“Sorry,” Casey said, holding up her hands in surrender. “You’re the boss.”

“It’s pronounced Fross, actually,” Ruda said with a grin.

“So,” the pixie continued, “I went looking for traces of this mechanism and guess what I found!”

“Or,” Toby said quickly when several people opened their mouths, “just tell us? For efficiency’s sake, if nothing else.”

Fross appeared not to hear him, carrying on at a rapid clip while bouncing up and down in midair. “While I was doing exploratory divinations, I actually caught the damaged edges of the metal casing rebuilding itself, filling in scratches and trying to extend toward the part that’s broken off! And, and! That prompted me to take a closer structural look at the metal itself, and it was clearly not molded, cast, or worked using any known means. It was built up one atom at a time, like the way mollusks grow shells, but on an even smaller scale somehow adding up to a finished product on a much greater scale than any clam! Isn’t that amazing?”

Everyone stared at the apparently inert metal arm for a moment of silence, Merry and Casey standing up to see better.

“Amazing is a word,” Ruda said at last. “The one that springs to my mind is ‘creepy.’ With some adjectives. You all know my favorite ones, I think.”

“I have no idea,” he replied, “but none of us have any idea about anything, here, and I don’t think we can afford to take risks.”

“He’s right,” Toby said, placing a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “About the risks and sensible countermeasures, not so much the part where he started barking orders at the aforementioned queen and princess.”

“Oh.” Gabriel’s cheeks colored. “I, uh…sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“It’s all right, Arquin, we’re used to you,” Ruda said, slugging his other shoulder and grinning. “Future reference, don’t get pushy with Punaji women unless you’re lookin’ to get your ass married and/or stabbed.”

“And/or?” Ephanie muttered.

“Seriously, though, let’s please just do this,” Gabriel said a little nervously. “Uh… Juniper’s the tricky one. Either divine healing or the cleansing charms I can do will hurt her.”

“I’m not sure I need it,” the dryad said, folding her arms. “I’m pretty impervious in the first place, and anyway, I have my own means.”

“Okay, but…wouldja humor me, Juno? Whatever you’ve got to check for and cleanse any kind of corruption… I know you’re a dryad, but remember you don’t have Naiya to rely on now and there’s no telling what these guys are capable of…”

“Yeah, I see your point,” she said with a sigh. “Okay, I’m just gonna go to that corner over there and concentrate. Can you try to keep your divine magic in the other side of the room?”

“Sure,” Toby said, peering at him. “Did I hear you say you can do cleansing charms? That’s impressive stuff, Gabe, I had no idea you were that advanced.”

“Gabriel is very good at enchanting!” Fross chimed. “I’m a much more general-purpose arcanist, and I frequently ask his help with passive enchantment work! And we worked hard on getting those cleansing charms right for our semester project. See, the trick is including the right modifiers so they only identify and purge hostile elements from the body and not the symbiotic bacteria that aid digestion! We made a lot of poor rats very sick…”

Nandi cleared her throat, stepping forward. “I am a priestess. Less innately powerful than Mr. Caine, obviously, but with five centuries of experience in several fields of healing. I would be glad to help.”

“You would be very welcome,” Toby said emphatically. “My thanks, Corporal Shahai. Now, let’s please organize everybody into a line over here, we’ll want to give everybody our full attention, not just fling magic around. Corporal, would you walk us through the recommended procedure, please?”

While Nandi began instructing the students, Merry glanced sidelong at Juniper, who had just passed them and was now sitting in the corner with her eyes closed, then leaned forward and lowered her voice to a bare whisper, nodding in Teal’s direction. “So, uh… What’s the deal with that one?”

“She’s possessed,” Principia replied in the same quiet tone. “Bonded with the archdemon Vadrieny.” Farah swallowed loudly, staring at Teal with wide eyes.

“We always make the neatest friends,” Casey murmured. Everyone shifted to stare at her; neither her expression nor tone revealed whether she was being sarcastic.

“And you,” Merry finally said, prodding Principia in the shoulder, “drugged her to get her out of your way. Some balls on you, woman. Not an iota of sense, but still.”

“It seemed worthwhile at the time,” Principia said with a sigh. “Okay, Lang, that’s as good as an opening as you’re likely to get. Planning to make with the barrage of screeching and questions, now? Quite frankly, the anticipation has been worse than what your voice does to my ears when you get in one of your episodes.”

“I do not have ‘episodes,’” Merry said sullenly. “Anyhow…no. Oh, I was gonna, but I spent the awkward silence while we were getting frog-marched here thinking—shut your mouth, Elwick!—and it actually makes perfect sense, like the princess said. Obviously, if Rouvad was gonna let you in the Legions, it would be with a huge list of stipulations about what you can’t say to whom. So, no, LT, I don’t take being kept in the dark personally, this one time.”

“I can’t tell you what a load off my mind that is,” Principia said sweetly.

Merry grinned right back. “Yeah, well. After the way she lit into you, I figured you two have enough issues without me picking at it.”

Ephanie sighed. “And still, you had to bring that up. You were almost considerate for a moment there, Lang.”

“I knew,” Casey said quietly, then shrugged when the others turned to stare at her again. “Locke pretty deliberately left the breadcrumbs. You just had to follow ’em.”

“Of course she did,” Ephanie said, turning to Principia in exasperation. “Locke, have you ever been given an order you didn’t feel an immediate need to weasel around?”

“No,” Prin said immediately, grinning. “Not once. But I have many times received orders I didn’t actually weasel around. If I just went and did everything I felt a need to, I’d have had a much more interesting sex life. And also would be dead by now.”

“I would prefer not to hear any more about either of those prospects, please,” said Merry.

Their conversation, and Nandi’s instruction of Toby, was interrupted by a rap at the door. A second later, it opened, revealing the royal seneschal.

“Zari, my rules about you hassling the staff don’t change just because you’re halfway to college-educated,” Anjal snapped, whisking her hat off and swatting Ruda over the head with it. “What is it, Akhatrya?”

“Your pardon, Majesty, Princess, honored guests,” the tall, bearded man said, bowing deeply. “There is an unexpected visitor in the palace seeking an audience with both the Crown and with Lieutenant Locke.” He turned another, shallower bow specifically upon Principia. “A representative from the local Thieves’ Guild.”

Anjal narrowed her eyes. “I see. And this visitor is not meeting with the King because…?”

Akhatrya’s face betrayed no expression. “His Majesty the King feels that since you are both together, it is the most efficient course of action for you to meet Miss Lagrande.”

“One hopes so, Lieutenant,” Akhatrya said placidly. “She was moments ago. If she is otherwise now, we shall have most interesting conversations with the Guild in the days to come.”

“Great,” Anjal muttered. “You win this time, husband, but there will be a reckoning. Oh, yes, there will. Well, Akhatrya, I’m afraid our little Zari wasn’t wrong. Join the line, please. This Quinn Lagrande will just have to wait a few minutes longer.”

Ox Whippoorwill stepped into the Ale & Wenches and paused just inside, exchanging nods with a couple of citizens. Most didn’t notice him, being too absorbed in their conversations. Everything about the scene was…off. It was far too crowded for the early afternoon, and almost all those present were Rockies, while the A&W primarily catered to out-of-towners. Its usual clientele were present in small numbers; they were identifiable as the few people sitting at tables by themselves, looking somewhat bemused by what was going on around them.

What was going on was just conversation, so far. They were intense conversations, though, and not all of them quiet. Ox stood for a handful of heartbeats, soaking it in—just long enough to hear a few key words. Then he moved out of the door and began making his way around the perimeter of the room toward the only man present aside from the bartender who wasn’t sitting.

“Deputy,” Fedora said, nodding at Ox’s approach. He was blatantly lurking, just beside the stairs, and just as blatantly watching the room. More than a few of those gathered kept casting pointed glances his direction. So far, at least, nobody was staring.

“Inspector,” Ox rumbled in reply. “An’ it’s just Ox. Titles are for when I gotta get official with somebody.”

“Very well, same goes,” Fedora said, momentary amusement cracking his pensive expression. He took a sip of the pint of beer in his hand. It was almost full, clearly being used as a prop to justify his presence to the proprietor.

“Oh? I figured Inspectors kept the right to the title even after they retired. Like military ranks, or professors.”

“I actually would have to look up the rules on that,” Fedora murmured, again staring across the bar. “Regardless, I’m not in with the Empire any longer. That was a good job and I’m glad to have held it, but it’s best not to dwell on the past, I find.”

“Mm.” Ox took a position next to him and folded his arms, feeling no need to bother getting a drink. He wanted his head clear, and since being officially deputized he had no need of an excuse to stand around in a public place.

For a few minutes, they stood in silence. Watching, and listening.

“Is it like this all over town?” Fedora asked finally, then took another tiny sip.

“A mite calmer,” Ox replied. “Folk meetin’ on the street, havin’ little chats. In shops an’ behind shops… Nothin’ else is as boisterous as this right here. ‘Swhy I came to keep an eye on this crowd. Even the Saloon’s not as packed, or as…intense. Jonas won’t stand for no funny business in his place, either.”

Fedora nodded very slowly. “Tell me…are you seeing the same thing wrong with this picture I am?”

“It’s too damn fast,” Ox said immediately, keeping his voice low. With the hubbub in the room, it wasn’t hard to be discreet. “Not that it’s a small thing, exactly, the University sponsorin’ some kinda demon-summonin’ project, but… I know this town. I know the rhythms an’ the balance of opinions. There ain’t enough folks suspicious of the school to create this kinda hubbub this quick. Even if there was… The announcement was just posted, after lunch. Normally, folks’d only just be hearin’ the first rumors. This is all over. An’ you can plainly see how tense it’s gettin’.”

Again, that very slow nod. Fedora let his eyes wander across the crowded tavern, having another sip that barely wet his lips. “The Sheriff know about this?”

“I came right here when this started up, ain’t talked with him yet. Sam’s got ears, though. He knows his job, an’ he knows this town.”

“Hm.”

“Reminds me of a while back,” Ox continued after a pause. “We damn near had an honest-to-gods riot in this town, an’ it turns it there was a rogue Vidian priestess doin’ some kinda hoodoo, makin’ people more susceptible. You don’t suppose…”

This time, Fedora shook his head negatively, and with more energy. “I don’t know Last Rock as well as you, Ox, but I know people, and I know trouble. You’re right: this is too quick. Much too quick a result. And your instinct is equally right. I’m never willing to trust that out-of-the-ordinary behavior happens on this scale without being made to. But look at the pattern.” He gestured slowly around the room with his nearly-full glass. “Look at the different expressions. There are people nervous, people pissed off… But most uncertain, and just as many peacemakers as agitators. Folks speaking up on Tellwyrn’s behalf. If there was a magical effect in place to agitate people, like in your example, we wouldn’t see all these people standing back and listening, waiting to form their own opinions. If there was some kind of more aggressive control trying to turn people against Tellwyrn, same goes and she wouldn’t have this many defenders.” Again, he shook his head, and took a sip. “No need to assume some grandiose, cosmic effect in place. Just somebody stirring up shit. Someone skillful, well-connected in this town. Someone who knows the social landscape well enough to launch a very effective rumor campaign.”

“You’re sayin’ it’s one o’ my neighbors,” Ox growled.

“Maybe,” Fedora said noncommittally. “It would take more than one to do this so efficiently, but don’t jump to any conclusions. There are a lot of new faces in Last Rock lately, some who’ve been here long enough to have learned what they’d need to do this, assuming they had the right skills to begin with. This used to be a town where everybody knew everybody else; now, suddenly, it’s not anymore. You couldn’t ask for an easier target for infiltration.”

“Not yet,” the erstwhile Inspector replied, a predatory glint rising in his eyes. “That…will take a little work. I’m going to have a long stroll around town, Ox. Chat with some people, listen in. You and the Sheriff have no objection, I trust?”

“Respect the law,” Ox rumbled, “respect the people, an’ don’t stir up no more trouble. Aside from that, ain’t my business or the Sheriff’s what you do.”

“Oh, I don’t intend to stir the pot, you can count on that,” Fedora said, straightening up and casting a weird little smile around the room. “But I am going to find out who’s got their hands on the spoon.”

“And so, you have come to me.” Ami Talaari smirked, folded her arms strategically under her bosom, and leaned against the frame of her apartment door. After having swept a disdainful look around at his entourage of junior Eserites, she had seemingly dismissed them from consideration and focused her gaze upon Schwartz. “Really, Herschel, you ought to have done so in the first place. Who else do you know who has her finger upon the city’s pulse?”

“Yo.” Darius, at the back of the little crowd outside her apartment door, raised his hand. Everyone ignored him.

“Aha, well, yes,” Schwartz said self-consciously, managing a weak grin. “It really hasn’t been all that long, Ami. I went to get these guys first because I thought they might be in immediate danger… But you’re the first person we’ve come to!” Meesie nodded vigorously, bounding from his shoulder to the top of his head and adding a squeak of affirmation.

“Because you’re being hunted?” She finally looked past him again, studying the apprentices with a bit more interest. “These are the Eserites you know, yes? Why not go to the Guild for help? I’m certainly not shy about my talents, but that seems, if anything, a better source of intelligence on movements in the city. Not that I can’t help, of course,” she added with a smug little smile. “Just…curious.”

“Well, the thing is…” Schwartz cleared his throat. “We’re not sure who to trust or where we can go at the moment, and even my rooms at the Collegium have been spied on, so that’s possibly not safe…”

“Yeeeessss?” Ami’s smile widened. “I’ll warn you I have little direct access to the Collegium except through you, Herschel. But give me a few hours and I’m sure I can turn up something.”

“Um.” He cleared his throat again. “Actually, we just need to borrow your apartment for a little bit. I need a secure space to cast some divination, so we can figure out where to go next.”

Her smile instantly vanished. Ami stared at Schwartz in silence for two heartbeats, then took a step backward, grabbed the door, and swung it shut.

“Waitwaitwaitwait!” Schwartz squawked, sticking a foot in the doorway to block it. “It’s not just that, Syrinx is involved!”

She stopped trying to kick his foot out of the doorway, and pulled it a few inches back open, her eyes now narrowed in suspicion. “How?”

“That’s just it, I don’t know yet, and believe me all this is terrifying enough without her snooping around the periphery after the gods know what!” He surreptitiously wrapped his fingers around the edge of the door frame, seemingly unconcerned with the danger to them should she manage to shove his foot out of the gap. It at least gave Meesie the opportunity to scamper down his arm and add her earnest squeaks to his plea. “She’s not the only old familiar face that’s suddenly showing up in connection with this. Ildrin Falaridjad is involved; she tried to have Jasmine, Tallie and Layla thrown in jail so she could interrogate them!”

“Ildrin?” Ami’s eyebrows shot upward. “Why in the name of Boslin’s flute is she not in jail?”

“And,” Schwartz continued doggedly, “it was Syrinx who intercepted her and bailed them out. I know those two have a mutual grudge but I can’t help being very suspicious when Basra shows up being helpful.”

Ami heaved a deep sigh—very deep, and accompanied by a subtle shift of her shoulders and back that made her chest swell, prompting Darius and Ross to shift their gaze momentarily. Schwartz, at least, was apparently used to her enough to maintain eye contact. “Oh, very well,” she said with poor grace. “I suppose you’d better come in, then.”

“You are a lifesaver,” Schwartz said emphatically, following her inside as she stepped back and let the door swing wide.

“Yes, well, I suppose someone has to rescue you, since your good friend Principia is out of pocket.”

He paused, prompting an annoyed throat-clearing from Darius, and then shifted aside to let the rest of them in. “How’d you know about that?”

“Forget to keep me in the loop, did you?” Ami positioned herself in front of the window and folded her arms dramatically, tilting her chin up. “Just because that elf is nominally friendly toward us doesn’t absolve her of being one of the most suspicious people we know. Believe me, I take great pains to be notified of any change in her routine. For example, her whole squad not showing up at any of their usual posts for a day and a half.”

“That is a wise policy,” Jasmine murmured.

“Holy crap, this place is nice,” Tallie said, adding a whistle as she peered around the apartment. “And you’re…a bard?”

“You were going to say just a bard, weren’t you.” Ami smiled smugly. “In much the way that you’re just a thief. We all have backstories, my dear. Touch that instrument and whatever problems you are having, they will increase by an order of magnitude.”

She hadn’t even been looking in the direction of Layla, whose fingertips were inches from the guitar propped upright on a reading chair, but Layla froze anyway.

“Uh, yeah,” Ross rumbled, gently taking Layla by the shoulders and pulling her back a few steps. “You don’t mess with a bard’s instrument. Ever.”

“My apologies,” Layla said, uncharacteristically demure.

“In case it doesn’t go without saying, now that my home is full of Eserites, I would prefer that there be no casual appropriation of any of my possessions.”

“Ami, there’s no need to get hostile,” Scwhartz reproved. “We appreciate your help very much, but you know quite well that Eserites don’t just grab whatever’s not nailed down.”

She just shook her head. “So! You are being stalked, apparently, by the Church loyalists, who by implication have become much more organized recently. I’m still lost on the point where the lot of you didn’t approach your own Guild first for help.”

There was a silence, in which even Meesie did not squeak.

“Wait, who?” Jasmine said at last. “Church loyalists?”

“Oh, really,” Ami said disdainfully. “Surely you didn’t think all this began in response to you.”

“I like her,” Tallie said in her driest tone. “She’s a sweetie.”

“Perhaps it’s best, after all, that you came to an accredited bard,” Ami said with a sigh, and turned to gaze out the window. She had a lovely view of a nearby park, surrounded by historic townhouses. “All of this descends directly from the Enchanter Wars; you lot and your troubles are only the latest manifestation of this conflict.”

While her back was turned, Darius carefully nudged Ross with his elbow, and then held both hands up in a cupping motion a good distance from his chest, waggling his eyebrows. Ross just shook his head, but Jasmine, Tallie, and Layla all swatted him simultaneously from behind. Despite her seemingly inhuman sense for fingers in the vicinity of her guitar, Ami did not respond to or appear to notice the chorus of slaps, continuing with her spiel.

“The Silver Throne and the Universal Church have been jockeying for influence for the last century, all because of the way the Enchanter Wars were ultimately settled. Before that, the Church was little but a formality, a kind of interfaith negotiating service. But then, Archpope Sipasian contributed to the outbreak of war by taking sides in the Salyrite schism, persecuting witches, and ultimately making enemies of the Sisters of Avei, the Thieves’ Guild, and the Veskers.” She clicked her tongue as if chiding the long-ago pontiff. “So immediately, when Archpope Vyara took over, she tried to scale back the Church’s power to avoid more infighting. But then she also participated in a scheme to place a new dynasty on the Silver Throne, under the control of the Church and a couple of the dominant Houses. Then it turned out they’d backed the wrong horse entirely; Sarsamon slipped his leash and positioned himself as Emperor in truth. So the Church was left with a mandate to avoid assuming direct control over society, but also organized in such a way as to surreptitiously do so, and without the mechanism for which that organization was designed. Which has led to a push and pull within the Church, and between it and the cults, ever since.”

“This is real interesting and all,” Darius began.

“This is important.” Ami half-turned, placing herself in profile against the window, and several pairs of eyes shifted again. Including Tallie’s, which were rolled heavenward. “This is what you’ve blundered into; not some circumstantial thing that’s just popped up like your nonsense with those dwarves a few weeks ago, but a struggle that has been ongoing for a hundred years! I’m flabbergasted that you’re only just hearing about this. What do they teach you in that Guild?”

She snorted, managing to make even that musical. “As someone who is already acquainted with Ildrin Falaridjad, let me assure you she is a known partisan in this business, and has been for years. Basra Syrinx also has a reputation for being friendly toward the Church, even more than most Bishops, which makes it interesting that she’s siding against them now.”

“Basra never does anything without wanting something,” Schwartz murmured, stroking Meesie with his fingers. “Also, she really hates Ildrin…”

“The point is,” Ami said patiently, “those two are hardly the only people involved in this matter. Given a little time, I could get you a list of names of people who would almost certainly be involved, based on their known reputations.”

“That would help tremendously,” Jasmine said fervently.

Ami held up a hand. “Two important points. First of all, I assume you have more to go on than just Ildrin acting up? Because I have seen her using a stolen Izarite shatterstone to interrupt diplomatic proceedings by assaulting one of the participants. Just because she of all people is disregarding basic rules of decent conduct is not inherently newsworthy.”

“What’s a shatterstone?” Darius asked.

“An artifact kept in most Izarite temples for defense from attack,” Schwartz explains. “If you do any non-divine magic in its vicinity, it lets out a sort of pulse that neutralizes magic in the area and incapacitates all magic users except Izarite clerics. Well, briefly, anyway.”

“A typically Izarite notion of defense,” Jasmine said contemptuously. “Passive, indiscriminate, and easy to circumvent with a basic application of strategy.”

Ami cleared her throat loudly.

“Yes, right,” Schwartz said hastily. “Well, the thieves, here, did an operation to bust up some kind of extortion ring within the Sisterhood and the Collegium. I helped them get info from the inside…”

“Yes, anyway,” he said irritably. “It’s in at least two cults and probably more, which was why we were uncertain about involving the Guild. Also, someone was scrying on my rooms, which means I specifically am being watched, and to get through the Emerald College’s wards they are either a very powerful mage or also a Salyrite. Probably both.”

“Ah,” Ami said, turning to face them again and nodding once. “Well, that brings me to my second point: You should have gone to the Guild immediately.”

“Once again,” Layla began.

“As I told you,” Ami said, “this is a new, more aggressive outgrowth from an existing matter. It’s about Church loyalists—people within the cults who believe strongly in the Universal Church, sometimes even more so than their own cults, at least according to rumor. Activity of that kind has increased markedly in the last ten years, though Archpope Justinian is always above anything tying him directly to such…antics. But we are still talking about people choosing to side with centralized power, at the expense of other loyalties.” She loftily arched one eyebrow. “And you really think the Guild is in on this? I assure you, in the entire century such activity has been waxing and waning, no Eserite has ever been involved. Other cults have wiggle room for attachments, but such goes against the most fundamental teachings of Eserion. Honestly,” she added acerbically, “it is incredible that I should have to explain this to you, of all people.”

“It’s really impressive how I wanna slap her even while she’s helping us out a lot,” Tallie said thoughtfully.

“Yes, Ami is very gifted,” Schwartz said with a sigh.

The bard, fortunately, seemed amused by this observation. “I seem to recall from Herschel’s description that you lot had help from one Alan Vandro?”

“Ugh,” said Jasmine, Tallie, and Layla in unison.

“Yeah,” Ross grunted. “What do you know about Vandro?”

“Only his reputation,” Ami said, grinning, “which includes the ugh factor. But also that he is an Eserite purist of the kind that annoys even other Eserites. If anyone could be relied upon not only to have no involvement in a Church loyalist campaign, but to do everything in his power to thwart one, it would be he.”

Jasmine drew in a long breath through her teeth. “Well…there’s that, I suppose. Personally, I think we’re better off dealing with the Guild directly, if it’s safe…”

“What about Glory?” Layla said. “Tamisin Sharvineh?”

Ami shrugged. “She, of course, is much more connected with circles of power, but again, still Eserite. Honestly, she is likely to more know about the ins and outs of this group if they are indeed beginning to organize something, as you imply.”

“They are definitely organizing something,” Jasmine said, frowning heavily. “I’d been thinking this was just a few opportunistic individuals, but if it’s instead a suddenly more orderly pattern of behavior by a long-standing group… Them skimming resources and money from two cults suddenly takes on a whole different aspect. That’s not just crime, it’s an insurgency strategy.”

“And further reason to turn to the Guild,” Ami added, again folding her arms. “The Thieves’ Guild’s intolerance for other people committing crime, especially organized crime, has always played a part in preventing rebel movements from funding themselves. It’s one of the reasons governments are so tolerant of Eserite activities.”

“So,” Darius said slowly, “if these people are suddenly ramping up their activities… They’re not just stealing money or liking the Church anymore. They’re planning to do something.”

“And,” Layla added, “the reaction to us suggests we came closer than we realized to finding out something they don’t want known.”

“You mean, by making you think about what you already knew?” Amy swept a grandiose bow. “A bard’s work is never done.”

Upon her return to the Rock, the royal family’s seneschal directed Teal to a chamber deep in the fortress, which he called an armory. There were, indeed, weapons along the walls, but it currently seemed to be serving as a combination laboratory and gathering place. Several more people were present than she’d expected to find when asking where her classmates were, one of them in the middle of a story when she entered.

“—two harpoon launchers, but mine were attached to treated cables that wouldn’t burn or cut under anything less than dragonfire or a mag cannon, and the heads discharged a spray of modified yggdryl sap which basically encased them and whatever they struck in a layer of rock. The release mechanism was in the launcher. So of course using ’em was expensive every time, but when I hooked another ship, they damn well stayed hooked, until I decided they could go again. The wonders of modern alchemy!”

Anjal Punaji was animatedly narrating, standing near an examining table on which were laid out a variety of arcane scrying tools along one side, while Fross flittered about over a bent metal arm that had clearly been taken from a Rust cultist. Ruda, Toby, Gabriel and Juniper were all standing nearby, listening to the pirate queen with varying degrees of interest.

“Told you,” Ruda grunted when her mother paused for breath. “Woman is fuckin’ obsessed with gadgets. You leave this thing in her sight and she’ll be trying to build her own cultist by nightfall.”

“So I’d let them herd me closer to the vortex, see?” Anjal continued, mostly directing herself to Gabriel, who was clearly the most wrapped up in her story. “So we snared her with both harpoons, and then dropped all sail, which basically made the Quarrel an anchor dragging the Sheng warship down with us. They immediately did everything they could to pull away, but with the weight of both ships and the vortex pulling at us, they had no chance. We stayed that way till we were both past the point of no return, then I released the cables and raised sail again.” She grinned savagely. “But my ship was outfitted with Imperial zeppelin thrusters below the water line. It was touchy for a bit there, but we pulled out of the vortex and left the Sheng to drown, and good bloody riddance to ’em.”

“Whoah, hold up,” Gabriel protested. “Zeppelin thrusters? Do those even work underwater?”

“I assure you, they do,” Anjal said with a wink.

“Cos I’m no sailor, but I’m pretty sure those things would shake a wooden ship to pieces.”

“Oh, that they would, which was precisely why mine was the only ship on the sea that had ’em. The Quarrel was a high elven caravel; toughest little girl I ever saw, and the wood healed itself after being damaged. You’re not wrong, she sprouted a dozen leaks after that abuse, but we bailed our asses off for the next day and a half and she gradually put herself right.” Anjal heaved a reminiscent sigh. “Gods, I miss that ship.”

Gabriel was frowning now. “I thought high elves were a myth.”

“Yeah, well, you’re better off. It’s for the best for everybody that they keep to themselves. They were real bloody curious what I was doing with one of their ships in the first place. By far the biggest pain in the ass I ever dealt with, and that’s including having half the Punaji privateers chasing me from Acarnia to Glassiere.”

“What is she doing here?” Teal demanded suddenly, glaring.

“Uh.” Juniper blinked. “She…lives here. This is kinda her house.”

“I don’t think she’s talkin’ about Mama,” Ruda said wryly.

“Oh. Right.”

Six other women were gathered on benches against the far wall, watching with wide eyes—including two elves, one of whom Teal recognized.

Teal braced her feet, and emitted a low growl—a sound that clearly was not the produce of any human voicebox. Flickers of orange fire sparked across her eyes. All six women pressed themselves backward against the walls.

“Whoah, whoah, easy there, hon,” Ruda said soothingly, rushing to her side and laying a hand on Teal’s shoulder. “Short version is, she’s helping. This is Lieutenant Locke of the Third Silver Legion. They’re expected; after the Fourth got wiped out, High Commander Rouvad sent us some special forces units, much more discreetly. These are the first to arrive.”

“This woman, in the Silver Legions?” Teal said contemptuously. “And you believed that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Ruda countered. When Teal turned a glare on her, she shrugged. “Think about it. The one thing we know she wants is access to Trissiny. This crazy bitch was willing to piss off all of us, not to mention the various world powers we’re connected to, plus fucking Tellwyrn, just to get a two-minute conversation with Shiny Boots. Her signing up with the Silver Legions after that is such an obvious next step I’m a little embarrassed it didn’t occur to me at the time. Besides,” she added, turning a wry look on Principia, “I’m no High Commander, but if I was crazy enough to let this walking sack of pickled assholes into my Legions, I’d definitely route her into the special forces. She’d make a shitty-ass soldier under any other circumstances.”

“Well, I am,” the elf said quietly. “The fact is, I was thinking of nothing but myself. All of you were just things in my way, as far as I cared. I have no excuse. It was unpardonable asshole behavior on my part, and I truly am sorry. That doesn’t change anything, I know, but there it is.”

“That was less than two years ago,” Teal exclaimed. “And now she’s calling herself a Lieutenant? That’s not even believable!”

Suddenly, warm arms were wrapped around Teal from behind, and Juniper pulled her close, resting her chin on Teal’s shoulder.

“She’ll wake up,” the dryad murmured. “She will be fine, Teal. And she wouldn’t want you to be so angry, or so sad.”

“She’s got a story to explain that, too,” Anjal interjected. “And we checked with the local Avenist temple, which has been kept in the loop. This actually is Squad 391, and Locke is who she claims. They’re an interesting bunch, aren’t they?”

“Thank you, your Majesty,” Farah said politely.

“Girl, I’m Punaji,” Anjal replied. “There are no Majesties here.”

Principia cleared her throat again. “Well. Now that we’re all assembled, I’ve got something more relevant to the mission to bring up. Unless I’m wrong, which I kind of hope I am, did I hear you refer to the Rust as the Infinite Order a few minutes ago?”

Ruda narrowed her eyes. “Our intelligence says that’s their own name for themselves. What of it?”

Principia ran a hand over her hair, letting out a long sigh. “Oy vey… All right. Have you guys had the chance to eavesdrop on any of their sermons?”

“I wish it was that simple,” Principia replied. “Okay, without going into excessive detail, let me just remind everyone that I was an adventuring thief for two hundred years, back when ‘adventure’ was a respectable career path and not a punchline. I have been places people should not go and seen shit that’s better left forgotten. Such as, specifically, a number of relics of the Elder Gods. Rather…instructive ones.”

“I’ve got a bad feeling about where this is heading,” Gabriel muttered.

“Infinite Order,” Principia said grimly, “was what they called themselves. The name of their organization, like how our gods are the Pantheon. And this stuff the Rust are spouting, this self-empowerment piffle… That was their religion.”

“Okay, hang on a fuckin’ second,” Ruda said, holding up a hand. “Let’s say for the sake of argument I believe you know this. Why would the Elder Gods need a religion? Wouldn’t they each have their own?”

“They weren’t gods like our Pantheon,” Principia explained. “They had a totally different relationship to their own power, and the people of this world. Our gods are each a god of something; the Elder Gods were just beings of incredible, nearly infinite power. Everything they did was calculated to protect that power, including the religion they preached and enforced. Like, the system of measurements we still use? That was a very old one which was long discredited by the time they arose. They used a system based on tens, each unit derived from some physical constant.”

“Like the dwarves use!” Gabriel said.

“Maybe the same one; it wouldn’t surprise me if the dwarves had dug up Elder God relics themselves. My point is, everything the Infinite Order did was designed to suppress people. They gave our ancestors food that barely nourished them, prohibited things like libraries and museums, insisted on a system of measurements that made any kind of science harder to do and mandated a religion based on nonsense and circular reasoning, all to inhibit people from rising to power the way they had.”

“It may not be as bad as that,” Principia cautioned. “The Elder Gods left all kinds of junk. Most of it’s been destroyed or locked away by now, but I suspect there’ll always be bits and bobs left for somebody to stumble across once in a while. Whoever leads the Rust may have just got his hands on some records and/or artifacts.”

“Sounds to me like we’d better be prepared for the worst, though,” Anjal said flatly. “Records and artifacts don’t wipe out Silver Legions.”

“Uh, yeah, about that,” Fross chimed, finally drifting away from the arm she’d been examining. “I would be more worried about whatever source of knowledge or power the Rust has being able to propagate itself somehow. Cos I’ve triple checked to be sure about this and right now I’m about ninety-five percent certain this hunk of metal is alive.”

“It’s not something I’d joke about,” Schwartz said distractedly, frowning into the distance ahead as he had been since they’d found the others. “And…it’s not as if we went into the country. That’s pretty much suicide. Camping on the border and getting chased away by monsters was close enough, thank you.”

“There’s a great deal more to you than there appears, isn’t there, Herschel?” Layla said, giving him a warm smile. Darius shot her a look through narrowed eyes, then switched it to Schwartz, who didn’t notice. Meesie bounded onto Schwartz’s head and cheeped smugly.

“I think that’s true of everyone,” the witch muttered, still frowning in thought.

Fortune had been with them for once; Layla and Darius were together, in the main floor of the casino, which was quiet at that hour, and both dressed far more fashionably than was their custom these days. When asked about this, he had just glowered and she had looked smug. Ross, too, had been easily accessible, perched on the casino’s front steps playing a flute. It was hard to say what seemed more incongruous: the delicate little instrument in his beefy hands, or the sweet tone and precise notes he produced. Altogether it was easier to gather the group than Jasmine and Tallie had feared—especially so, since they didn’t even need to descend to the depths of the Guild proper, which would have necessitated leaving Schwartz behind.

Things were slowing down, however.

“Hey, man, step lively,” Darius reproved, falling back to nudge Schwartz with an elbow and earning a shrill scolding from Meesie, which he ignored. “We’re on a deadline, remember?”

“Oh, and what deadline is that, Darius?” Layla asked archly.

“The deadline that we don’t know who’s after us or what they can do,” he snapped. “For-fuckin’-give me if I’m a little nervous about this. Even the dwarves were just spies. This time it’s magic people. Real wizards, apparently, not hired enchanters. Plus whatever priests…and we still don’t know how deep this thing goes or into how many cults. Future reference,” he added, turning to address the rest of the group, “I have learned my lesson and am henceforth with Style. From now on, we stay the hell out of interfaith business.”

“Sorry,” Schwartz muttered a little belatedly, lengthening his stride. Meesie hopped from atop his head down to his shoulder, patting his cheek and squeaking in concern. Uncharacteristically, he appeared not to notice her, staring head with his forehead creased.

“Hey.” Suddenly, Ross came to a stop, reaching out to grasp Schwartz by the shoulder and holding him up as well. The others trailed to a halt, staring at Ross in puzzlement; Schwartz blinked, confused, and seemed to take a moment to focus his eyes on the burly apprentice. “You wanna tell us what bothers you so much about this Bishop we’re goin’ to see?”

They were on a busy sidewalk in the district which housed the Imperial Casino; at this hour not long before noon, the traffic was plentiful. And as per the usual disinterest of city dwellers for other people’s business, what Eserite technique classified as the “don’t see” kind of invisibility, nobody was paying the gathering of somewhat scruffy young people any attention. Meesie garnered a few curious looks, but no one stopped, or even slowed.

“Sorry, didn’t express that right,” Ross grunted. “Wasn’t askin’ you to explain. I’m asking, Schwartz, if you want to tell us about it. Cos if you don’t, that’s also okay.”

“I would sort of…rather not, actually,” Schwartz said at last. “It’s not that…”

“Don’t need to explain,” Ross said, nodding, then shifted his head to look at the others. “Kay, so, we’re not doin’ that. What other options we got?”

“Now, wait a second,” Darius exclaimed.

“We don’t have a lot in the way of options,” Tallie agreed, frowning. “Look, Schwartz, I dunno what’s up with you and Syrinx, but we’ve got your back—”

“HEY.” Everyone shut up immediately at Ross’s bark; he had a bard’s lungs and could project at startling volume. All around the street, people paused, turning to look at the group. Ross glanced sidelong at this, frowning in annoyance, then turned and curtly tugged Schwartz toward the nearest alley. The witch followed him, unprotesting, and the others trailed along behind after a moment.

A few yards in, sheltered from the sight of the street, Ross turned, and gently shook Schwartz by the grip he still had on his shoulder—for a given value of gently. The witch nearly lost his balance and Meesie chattered a stern reproof.

“This is our boy Schwartz,” Ross said firmly, glaring at the others. “Smartest guy we know, badass spellcaster, and doesn’t scare easy. We knew that before this Athan’Khar business came up, even. He saved all our butts on that ride outta the city. So when he’s spooked enough by something to be this nervous, that’s all we need to know. Guild or not, you gotta trust your crew.”

Darius frowned. “I don’t think—”

“Oh, you don’t think at all,” Layla scoffed. “Ross is entirely correct, and I for one am embarrassed to have to be reminded of it. Quite frankly, that woman gave me the creeps. Even while she was clearly helping us, on both occasions, something about her makes my hackles rise.”

“Schwartz,” Jasmine said quietly, “I’m not arguing or judging, here, just asking. Are you sure about this?”

“I can’t say how sure I am about anything that might happen,” Schwartz replied with more poise. He met her gaze evenly, though, and nodded. “I can tell you that it’s an informed opinion backed by experience when I say nothing good will result from involving Basra Syrinx. Even if she can help, she’ll use that to tie strings to us. And that is something I promise we’ll all regret.”

Jasmine nodded slowly. “Then…I’m on board with this decision. I haven’t seen what Schwartz apparently has, but even within Avenist circles, I’ve heard warnings about Syrinx.”

“I have no idea what you lot are going on about,” Darius said irritably, then held up a hand when both Tallie and Layla rounded on him. “But! I trust you guys. Ross is right, after all; if you can’t trust your crew, you’re fucked anyway. So, if Syrinx is out as a prospect, what’s that leave us?” He shrugged helplessly, looking around at them. “Cos it’s not like we don’t have friends. The whole reason none of us have got proper sponsors is we have so many ties to upper Guild members it makes people nervous. But that does us no fucking good when we have to wonder if they’re involved in whatever horseshit is going on!”

“The original issue is we can find that out,” said Jasmine, “but it’ll take some time and room to maneuver. We need a secure space from which to operate, at least briefly, and protection by someone who can offer it would be nice.”

“Glory’d be perfect if we could trust her,” Ross added. “Gotta say I can’t see her bein’ in on this.”

“I think likely she is not,” Layla agreed, frowning and chewing her bottom lip in thought. “Rasha certainly wouldn’t be. But Glory hears bits of everything worthwhile happening in the city; don’t forget we got some of our initial tips on this from Rasha, who heard rumors via Glory’s connections. There are so many reasons someone might scheme from within the cults, not all of them bad. If she thought they had the right idea and didn’t yet know they were trying to falsely imprison us…”

“By the same token,” Tallie added dryly, “let me be the first to say I don’t think we should involve Webs in this. And I’m not just saying that because he stares at my chest and Layla’s butt.”

“He what?!” Layla and Darius chorused in matching outrage.

“I’ve noticed that too,” Jasmine said, scowling. “But strategically, I think you’re right. My feeling is with a little information we can clear Glory of involvement in this and be able to ask her for help. I have a very strong feeling, though, that if we go looking into Webs’s doings, we’re likely to find him knee-deep in this business. We know he’s suspicious of Tricks and the Guild’s current leadership. Who better to be involved in a conspiracy to suborn the cults from within?”

“What about that woman with the absurd suit?” Schwartz suggested. “I realize we didn’t part on the best of terms, but the way you describe it, she’s sort of ancillary to the Guild. If you’re worried the Guild is compromised…”

“Ironeye?” Tallie’s eyes widened, and she began waving her hands in front of herself. “Nonononono.”

“It occurs to me our method of making friends seems to involve making enemies in equal measure.” Jasmine sighed, running a hand over her hair. “Well, that pretty much just leaves…Pick.”

Tallie snorted. “Credit where it’s due, he’s had our back ever since we helped rescue him from the dwarves, but he’s got nothing to offer but small-time stuff. Pick’s not only the biggest asshole I know, he’s also not the sharpest tool in the shed. I don’t see anything worthwhile coming of involving him.”

“There’s Grip,” Darius said.

Everyone turned to stare at him.

“Yeah, I know,” he muttered, and heaved a heavy sigh.

“Oh!” Tallie turned to Jasmine. “I realize you’ve got a complicated relationship with her, Jas, but let’s not forget Sergeant Locke and her squad. They came through for us once.”

“Uh, no good, I’m afraid,” Schwartz chimed, grimacing. “I got a note from Principia last night to…well, stay out of trouble. She and her squad are out of the city on some classified maneuver or other.”

“They’re trusting Locke with classified operations?” Jasmine exclaimed, her eyebrows shooting upward. The next moment, they fell into a frown. “Wait, why is she worried about you getting into trouble?”

“Syrinx,” he said sullenly.

“Oh. Right.”

“What about you, man?” Darius asked, turning to Schwartz. “I know the Collegium seems to be compromised, but do you have any particular friends in there who you trust?”

“Some,” Schwartz said with a pensive frown, while Meesie chittered softly as if debating possibilities with herself. “Sister Leraine is all the way in Viridill, though… I have worked with Bishop Throale enough that I think he would listen to me, but we aren’t close.”

“I would not assume that based just on rank,” Jasmine said, shaking her head. “Darling and Throale would both be excellent prospects for any kind of conspiracy to recruit, whereas Syrinx is unstable and cruel enough that handling her might seem like more trouble than it’s worth. I’ve said before I don’t think High Commander Rouvad has her nearly as much in hand as she believes.”

“In short,” Layla said with open exasperation, “everyone we know either hates us or can’t be trusted in a pinch. I feel this is the sort of revelation which ought to prompt some soul-searching.”

“And would,” Tallie agreed gravely, “if any of us had souls. No offense, Schwartz. Ooh!” She suddenly straightened up, grinning, and pointed at him. “Now, stop me if I’m wrong, everything I know about fairy magic I learned from you an hour ago, but the way you were talking about divination… Can you get some answers for us about who can and can’t be trusted?”

“Hm.” He frowned deeply. “Hmmmmm.” Meesie sat upright on her haunches, twisting her head to peer up at him, in silence for once. “Wellll…”

“Is this how divination works?” Darius asked sardonically. “Are you doing it right now?” Layla struck him in the stomach with the back of her fist, which he pretended not to feel.

“The tricky thing is…well, it’s tricky,” he said slowly, folding an arm across his midsection to prop his other elbow on it and stroke his chin in deep thought. Meesie mimicked the pose on his shoulder, squeaking once in agreement. “Fae divination is as much about politics and interpersonal relations as magical technique. It comes through the agency of intelligent spirits, which all have their own personalities and agendas. Some points generally in common, though. They don’t like yes or no questions, as a rule.”

“Sounds like they just enjoy being difficult,” Layla observed, arching an eyebrow.

“That is…not incorrect,” Schwartz said with a sigh. “The more specific you try to be, the more vague the answers will be, as a rule of thumb. Humm…there are possibilities, though, workarounds. Connection is a powerful thing in witchcraft, as are emotional states. If we’re dealing with questions about people to whom we are already linked, and whether they mean us well or ill…” His eyes came back into focus, actually beginning to look a little eager. “You know, I think I might be able to work something up! I won’t promise anything terribly detailed, of course. There is always the risk when trying to maneuver around spirits’ recalcitrance that you will trigger a backlash. Do that the wrong way and a practitioner can seriously damage the relationships they have built with totem spirits and thus permanently impair their craft.”

“Well, let’s not do that,” Darius said. “You’re no good to us de-magicked.”

Layla hit him again.

“And,” he added, scowling at her, “obviously we care whether you get your magic screwed up. I was assuming that went without saying.”

“No, ya don’t,” Tallie said, grinning and leaning an elbow on his shoulder.

“I think I can do this, though, yes,” Schwartz said in mounting excitement, ignoring their byplay. “I mean, as I said, I won’t swear to the results, but… Well, for a start, I believe we’re taking it as given that we trust Glory and just need some independent verification? Because if that’s the only level of certainty I have to shoot for… Yes, I’m almost positive I can do that!”

“If you can, that would give us a perfect starting point,” Jasmine said with a broad smile, catching some of his enthusiasm. “Glory is amazingly well-connected in the city, as we were discussing. With her help we may be able to find out everything else we need without having to trouble your spirits.”

“Oh, but…” Schwartz deflated abruptly. “What we’re talking about is not a simple, standard consultation. I could do one of those right here, in this alley, if you guys didn’t mind standing guard for half an hour or so. But this will need some rather more serious preparation… I will need both space and time, which means a spot we can consider safe. And without safe access to my rooms at the Collegium…”

“We’re right back to where we started,” Tallie said. “Well, fuck.”

Darius cleared his throat and raised a hand. “Okay, don’t everybody pile on me for this, but… To revisit an earlier topic, how off the table is Bishop Syrinx? Because she’s a dangerous hardass, she’s the only major player we know isn’t in with this conspiracy, and sure, maybe she’s a vicious asshole, but we’ve just spent the last ten minutes figuring out that describes pretty much everybody we could possibly turn to.”

Meesie began tugging at Schwartz’s earlobe, squeaking insistently. When he turned his head to look at her, she hopped to the very edge of his shoulder, stood up on her tiptoes, and struck a pose folding one tiny arm across her chest while brandishing the other in the air. She raised her head and let out a single long, shrill note.

“You trained your mouse to do opera?” Darius exclaimed, wincing and raising fingertips to his own ears. “Well, that’s the single most impressive thing I’ve ever seen that has no conceivable use. Also, please make it stop.”

“Oh!” Schwartz’s expression suddenly brightened, and he reached up to scratch between Meesie’s ears. “That’s right, I do know someone! Someone who can find information for us the slow way and provide a safe place for me to cast!”

“Well, why didn’t you suggest that first?” Tallie asked irritably.

Schwartz winced. “I, uh, didn’t think of it. And also there’s the fact that she is not going to like this. Any part of it.”

The Mermaid’s Tail was as close to “upscale” as establishments on the wharves of Puna Dara came. There was often music, broken furniture was repaired or replaced quickly, the food and drinks were both good, the serving girls were pretty, and the consequences for pawing at them included broken bones and an unplanned swim. The place was never truly quiet; even just before the lunch hour, it was busy enough to be difficult to find a table for six people.

For that reason, Squad 391 had chosen not to stay there after meeting up.

In appearance they had mostly reverted to type rather than attempting an actual disguise, with the possible exceptions of Principia and Nandi. Neither personally favored the traditional elvish attire they now wore, but it served as the best deflectors of attention. Elves were rare in Puna Dara, and had a less savage reputation than in the Imperial provinces, so they were met with less suspicion and hostility, but just as much curiosity; wearing obviously human clothes would have made them more curious to behold, which they preferred to avoid.

Of the others, Casey was in a simple skirt and blouse suitable for her prairie childhood. Ephanie and Merry both wore sturdy boots, trousers and shirts that didn’t look too out of place on the wharves, reflecting in one case a pragmatic Avenist upbringing and in the other both a working-class background and frontier adventurer sensibilities. Farah, meanwhile, was regretting her choice of a stiff, high-collared conservative dress. Such garments much better suited the climate of Tiraas than Puna Dara, as the sweat dampening her temples affirmed.

“Okay, first thing we’ve gotta do is get you into more suitable clothes, Farah,” Principia said, grinning but not without sympathy.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Farah panted, vigorously fanning herself with a Sheng style hand fan for which she had paid far too much from a vendor. “Sorry, Sar—Lieu—Prin. I didn’t think well enough ahead.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Merry said easily. “If any of us had thought far enough ahead, we’d have warned you.”

“Oh, indeed, this one has no business criticizing anybody’s choices in wardrobe,” Principia said merrily.

They were walking along the waterfront between piers; Merry actually stumbled half a step, and shot the elf a warning look. “Locke.”

“You should have seen the costume I first met her in!” Principia continued, grinning from ear to ear. “It was like she’d gone to the most overpriced leatherworker she could find and asked for the most stereotypical adventurer gear they had—”

“Locke, so help me—”

“—but instead of ‘adventurer’ the guy thought she said ‘prostitute,’ so she had to improvise places to keep two dozen unnecessary throwing knives—”

Merry rounded on her. “Oy, don’t you start spouting off about regs while we’re out here—”

“Correct, they’re not as applicable while we’re being discreet, and speaking of which keep your voice down,” Ephanie retorted bitingly. “Consider that a personal request. Keep it up and first I’ll lecture you about basic feminist philosophy, which I know you’ve already heard, and then throw you in the harbor.”

“Wait, Tazlith?” Farah said, still fanning herself but now cocking her head quizzically. “As in…arrow? I can see how you’d get that from the elvish glyphs but I was sure it was pronounced ‘tasleef.’”

Merry ground the heels of both her hands into her eye sockets. “AAAUUGH!”

“Yeah, that’s a great way to avoid notice,” Casey muttered.

“Take it easy,” Principia said lightly. “I’m watching and listening, as is Nandi. Nobody’s paying us any mind.”

The area was, indeed, busy to the point of boisterousness. Puna Dara being a major port city, the amount of activity that went on around the docks near midday bordered on deafening. Even Merry’s outburst hadn’t garnered them so much as a glance; there was no shortage of shouting resounding from all sides, most of it a lot more meaningful. The group passed in front of a long warehouse which seemed to be built partially over the harbor, briefly cutting off their view of the sea.

“Speaking of which, to business,” Nandi said softly enough that the non-elves had to cluster closer to her to hear. The group’s pace slowed somewhat. “We haven’t been idle while waiting for you, but we have learned little, I’m afraid.”

“First and most important, I think, is that there are limits to what they can watch, or at least watch for,” Principia agreed, nodding. “You four made it here unimpeded. They aren’t omniscient. None of the other Legion groups have made it here yet; we’ve checked at the temple of Avei. They’re expecting the group of healers tomorrow, and that will be the next test of the Rust’s capabilities and inclinations. We know they can hit an entire Silver Legion; the question is whether they’ll find a contingent of Avenist medical staff a threat.”

“A grim thing to contemplate,” Ephanie said gravely.

Principia nodded. “As for the other cults… Local gossip places two Huntsmen in the Rock. That’s the fortress there in the harbor which houses the Punaji government; apparently they’re guests of Blackbeard himself.”

“Two?” Merry said disdainfully. “That’s helpful.”

“It is helpful,” Ephanie replied. “Two is not nothing, and Huntsmen are not Legionnaires. Without the backing of a lodge master or official like Bishop Varanus, it can be difficult to mobilize them, especially into a city.”

“Haven’t had time to check up on the other cults yet,” Principia went on quietly. “There’s a Vidian temple, of course, and an Omnist one, but…well, those are Vidians and Omnists. There’s a limit to how useful they’re likely to be. No word from any delegations from other faiths; it’s going to be interesting trying to track them down if they’re all trickling in from various directions the way we did.”

“What about the local Thieves’ Guild?” Casey asked. “If anything, I’d think Eserites would be the most helpful.”

“That was going to be my next stop after we linked up with you lot,” Principia agreed. “They’ll be instrumental in keeping us in touch with the word on the street. But…let me just moderate your expectations before they soar too high. The Guild in Puna Dara is… Well, to be quite frank, it’s basically the Eserite rest home.”

“I would think that’d make them more likely to set up shop,” Merry muttered.

“For other cults, maybe, but not the way Eserites think,” Casey replied. “They like to slink around in shadows and challenge corrupt centers of power. In a whole society that believes the way they do, the first part of that is unnecessary and the second part would have a hard time taking hold.”

“Exactly.” Principia glanced back at her and nodded. “So basically, the Guild here is half a dozen retirees who find the local climate good for their bones, and a couple of apprentices, mostly their kids and grandkids, who can’t wait for an opportunity to bugger off to someplace like Tiraas or Shengdu.”

“Fuck a duck,” Merry muttered.

“It’s not so bad,” Principia said cheerfully. “Without—”

She came to an abrupt stop, prompting the rest of the group to do likewise; a young Punaji woman in a broad-brimmed hat with a lot more feathers than seemed usual had suddenly whipped around the corner ahead to block their path, one hand resting suggestively on the bejeweled hilt of the rapier which hung at her belt. The girl, who was a head shorter than any of them, tilted her head back to study Principia’s face closely.

“Yuuuuup,” she drawled, “thought so. I like the hair. Blonde looks better on you.”

“Excuse me,” Principia said politely, “I think you may have me mistaken for someone else.”

“Okay!” A silver streak of light zipped out from behind the warehouse, pausing right in front of them. “Hi! Sorry about this!”

“Wh—”

That was as far as Prin got before a blast of gale force wind sent the rest of the squad bowling over and a wall of sheer kinetic energy slammed her against the front of the warehouse. Four lightning-swift bursts of magic from the pixie encased her hands and feet, neatly pinning her against the brickwork.

The wind had been almost surgically precise; the human girl hadn’t lost a single feather from her hat. She now lazily dragged her rapier from its sheath and pressed the tip against Principia’s throat.

“So! If it isn’t the great Principia Locke. What the fuck are you doin’ in my city, you smirking little ferret?”

“STAND DOWN!” Prin roared. “No weapons! Don’t even think about it!”

“I beg your goddamn fucking pardon?” the Punaji girl said dangerously, pressing slightly with the sword. “According to what twisty-ass logic do you think you’re in a position to make demands?”

“Sorry,” Principia said earnestly, putting on a pleasant smile. “Wasn’t talking to you.”

Slowly, she turned to study the rest of the squad, all of whom were now on their feet and brandishing the long knives—and in Merry’s case, a cudgel—which they’d hidden among their clothes, visibly preparing to charge. At Principia’s order, they’d all stopped, but were glaring at the woman and her pixie companion. With the exception of Nandi, who wore a tiny smile.

Another figure strolled around the corner, this one in a green corduroy coat, and with a black-hilted elvish saber hanging from his belt. He stopped and surveyed the scene with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, Ruda, it’s your town and all, but unless you know something I don’t, these ladies don’t look awfully Rusty. There a particular reason we’re picking a fight with them?”

“Hn,” Ruda grunted, lowering her sword slightly. “No, I don’t actually suspect this one or her friends of being in with the Rust. But I don’t like coincidences with all this shit going on, and the sudden appearance of walking trouble this big makes me take notice. Bare minimum, we’re looking at a headache we do not fucking need. This is, as I just said, Principia fucking Locke, the elf with a penchant for breaking into dormitories and drugging our classmates.”

“Oh,” the young man said, turning an interested look on the imprisoned elf. “This is Trissiny’s mom?”

Brother Arlund appeared in the front doorway again; it was hard to tell if he was scowling as they hadn’t yet seen his face wearing any other expression.

“Still nothing,” the Huntsman growled. “How long do you plan to wait? The Rust prance unimpeded through the city while we loiter in one spot where they may or may not even return today.”

Juniper set down the crate of fish she had just picked up and turned to face him. “Hunting,” the dryad said pointedly, “requires a lot of patience.”

“It’s a solid lead,” Toby said in a much gentler tone, adding a smile. “That’s better than wandering through the city at random. And this way, if they don’t show up today, at least our time wasn’t wasted. If you’re bored, we can always use another pair of hands.”

Arlund’s eyes flicked from him to the fish they were in the process of loading onto the back of a battered old carriage. His expression altered slightly, though his thick black beard made it hard to read. With a soft grunt, he turned and strode back out into the sunlight.

“What an asshole,” Juniper muttered.

One of the Omnist monks working with them, Jahi, had discreetly picked up Juniper’s crate and added it to the truck bed. He now covered a grin with his hand and clambered into the driver’s seat, clearing his throat. “A thousand thanks for your help. I have to get this lot to Mudhi’s as quick as possible.”

“Glad to help,” Toby said, turning to the doors. “You need…?”

“I have it, thanks,” Anita replied, and indeed she had already pushed one of the storehouse’s wide double doors open. Jahi waved at them as he carefully guided the carriage full of fish out into the street beyond.

“Who’s Mudhi?” Juniper asked.

Toby had stepped forward unasked to pull the door shut again, so Anita answered her. “He runs a factory that salts and dries fish, and very generously donates his services to our pantry, so long as we don’t ask too much. Fish does not keep well unless you take steps to preserve it, and any fish we get is usually a day old, whatever didn’t sell down at the docks. So getting it preserved is always our first priority. The rest of this is relatively easy!” Smiling, she strode over to the remaining boxes. “Just inventory and sorting. The system isn’t too complex, we just prefer to keep different kinds of things together so it’s not impossible to find anything in here; the only somewhat challenging part is moving boxes and bags as you go, so older stuff is always near the front and gets used faster. I already did the inventory so you don’t get to see the boring part, I’m afraid.”

“Wow, you got a lot of stuff,” Juniper said, impressed. She had elected to wear her disguise ring when out in the city, and only stood out a little; Stalweiss (which the ring made her resemble) weren’t especially rare in Puna Dara, and her choice of attire drew more attention. Lately, the dryad had begun trading out her sundresses for clothes in the wood elven style, which had to have been made for her specially as they fit and she was more full-figured than practically any elf. The monks at the Omnist food pantry where she, Toby, and Arlund were spending the day hadn’t said a word, though both had stopped to stare a couple of times when Juniper effortlessly picked up and carried loaded crates as if they weighed nothing. Omnist monks in general weren’t suspicious or confrontational, and besides that, being with Toby gave her a lot of credibility.

“Omnu provides,” Anita intoned, bending to a pick up a sack. “Potatoes, very good; these keep wonderfully and are very nutritious. We don’t grow many locally, so they are always a valued gift.”

“Sounds like the people of Puna Dara provided,” Juniper grunted, casually gathering up six heavy bags of potatoes. “Where to?”

“Ah, this way,” Anita trotted off toward one side of the warehouse, Juniper following along.

“Yes, well,” Toby said, repressing a grin and picking up two sacks, “if Omnu provided with his own two hands, he’d be a neighbor and not a god. He encourages the spirit within people that urges us to help one another.”

“It’s a sign of the times,” Anita added. “The Punaji look after each other. In times of trouble or even just uncertainty, we always see more donations; those who are blessed anticipate that there will be a need and contribute more than they otherwise would.”

“Now that sounds like a good system,” Juniper said approvingly. “I wonder why they don’t do that in the Stalrange.”

“It would be a mistake to judge all the Stalweiss by the Huntsmen,” Anita replied. “Especially a single Huntsman.”

“It all comes back to agriculture,” Toby said thoughtfully.

Juniper had just set down her sacks and turned to go back for more from the big pile of stuff near the doors, but now stopped to frown at him. “Huh?”

“Shaath is the god of the wild,” Toby explained, patting her on the shoulder as he went back for more potatoes. “Omnu is the god of life, which means they have an overlap, but Omnu is also the god of agriculture, and that sort of makes them opposite. Agriculture is what makes the ultimate difference in societies. A Shaathist lodge is basically a tribe, you see. Hunter-gatherers in the truest sense, with each person responsible for acquiring their own food. Well, actually, not the truest sense, as they don’t let women hunt, so that requires a division of labor… I guess elvish tribes are the only true hunter-gatherer societies in that way. But elves are a whole other case, since they don’t need much food and their very presence keeps the environment healthy and productive. Hunter-gathering works for them as a lifestyle, to a degree of success that humans can’t achieve without agriculture. Carrots?”

“There’s a bin over here,” Anita said, pointing.

He picked up a crate of carrots and trotted in that direction, Juniper doing likewise and still listening as he continued. “Agriculture means food surpluses, and complex divisions of labor. Societies that farm have farmers, people who specialize in producing food, and make a lot more than they need. If they do it well, more than the whole society needs, so it has the resources to expand. But ultimately this is what makes everything else possible, all that sapient creatures do which other animals don’t. Not only different jobs with specialists, but every kind of advancement. Artists create culture, inventors create new technology, and that only works because…well, people take care of each other. I guess you could say the measure of a society’s ability to advance is its ability and willingness to support people of…dubious utility.” He set the carrots down with a grunt and turned to grin at Juniper. “Without people who have the luxury of sitting around tinkering with stuff, nothing new would be created. What sets a civilization apart from a primitive tribe is that it doesn’t let people starve to death just because they apparently deserve to.”

“Interesting.” She dusted off her hands, peering at him quizzically. “And…did you change the subject, or is this coming back around to Shaathists?”

“Ah, yes. Sorry; agriculture is Omnu’s purview, like I said. It prompts me to go off on tangents. Anyway, yes, Shaath being the god of the wild… To Huntsmen, civilization just means too many people in too little space with too little respect for nature. So we have a…difference of opinion.”

“Well, I have much the same opinion of civilization, but here I am, helping. Because I’m not an asshole.”

“Here, let me handle the tomatoes,” Anita said, bustling past them. “They’re more fragile. Would you two mind loading the apples into those barrels over there?”

“I suspect that’s why we have them,” Anita said wryly. “Outlanders are always importing apples, but they never get popular around here. I’m glad even the merchants would rather feed the poor than just dump them in the harbor when they don’t sell.”

“See,” Toby continued in a more pensive tone while picking up a box of apples, “the process of taming a wild animal begins with feeding it, and ends with making it dependent on you. To Shaathist ethics, that’s a horrible thing to do to someone. Anybody in need would find shelter at a Shaathist lodge; they don’t skimp on their hospitality, or judge people for being in bad circumstances. But in the long run, they won’t support someone who doesn’t contribute, and they don’t do charity. The Huntsmen feel that teaching and empowerment are the only true compassion, and giving people things they haven’t earned weakens them, which is cruel. You’ll find them quite eager to share their ways—not just their doctrine, but their skills, the ability to provide for oneself in any situation. That’s their idea of kindness. Like the saying goes: give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day, but teach a man to fish—”

“And since he can get his own damn fish he gets to sneer at people who’re doing actual work to help others?” She balanced her box on the rim of the barrel and paused to give him an exasperated look. “Toby, this obsession you have with seeing the best in everybody is gonna get you in real trouble someday. This really isn’t a doctrinal issue. That other Huntsman, Ermon, he’s nice. I haven’t heard him speak to anyone with anything less than complete respect since we met him. Arlund isn’t an asshole because he’s a Huntsman of Shaath, he’s an asshole because he is an asshole.”

“He is a fanatic.” Anita approached them with another box of apples; she also balanced it on the rim of an open barrel, but then began carefully moving apples from the crate into the barrel itself, prompting them both to do likewise. “You can see it in his eyes, the way he glares at everything with that…that specific blend of ardor and anger. Those are the eyes of a man who despises the world for failing to meet his expectations, and means to correct it.” She frowned into the barrel as she continued to shift fruit, careful not to bruise them. “They crop up inevitably among any religion. I have seen eyes like that before… Rarely among Omnu’s faithful. Never on someone in whose company I felt safe.” She deposited the last apple and let the wooden crate dangle from one hand, turning a concerned look on Toby. “I’m sure you know what you’re doing, Tobias, but…be careful around that one, please.”

“I appreciate your insight, sister,” he replied seriously. “I am pretty confident I can handle anything that comes up from working with the Huntsmen, but I won’t get careless.”

“Omnu’s ways are gentle ones,” she said with a sigh. “In my years working directly with the general public, I have gradually come around to the viewpoint that some people just cannot be handled gently. Judge me how you must for this, but I truly think people like that are better left for the Avenists to deal with.”

He smiled at her. “I would never judge—”

A shadow darkened the warehouse’s smaller front door as Arlund himself appeared, this time bursting eagerly into the room, practically quivering with energy. “He’s come!” With that terse announcement, he whirled on his heel and strode back out.

Toby turned to Anita. “Sister, I’m sorry to have to duck out…”

“Don’t apologize,” she said with a smile. “I’m way ahead of schedule on these chores thanks to you two. This is a good time for a break, anyway.”

The Omnist complex in Puna Dara was actually one of the city’s larger temples, but just because the structure was mostly utilitarian. Its actual temple stood next to the open gates: a tall, square stone edifice furnished only with low benches and scarcely large enough for a dozen people to convene in its one open room. It connected to the long barracks along the western edge of the compound, which housed the kitchens, living space for the handful of monks in residence, and the available beds for anyone in need of a roof over their head for a few days. On the north was the broad storehouse, with doors into the barracks and the central courtyard, and the big carriage gates opening onto the quiet street behind. An L-shaped wall blocked off the eastern side of the complex, and half the north adjacent to the front gate; within this was sheltered a large garden in which plants grew in raised beds, fenced off from the central courtyard. Pillars supported a sloped roof extending into the courtyard from the barracks, providing an open-air shelter in which tables and chairs were set up and where those who came here in need of a meal were served. Down the center of the courtyard, from the front gates to the warehouse doors, ran a long strip of open space between the garden and the seating area.

It was in this that the Rust preacher had appeared, and was now holding court.

The courtyard wasn’t that expansive; they could hear him clearly immediately upon stepping outside. The man had the characteristic reddish metal arm, and spoke in a voice which projected well without seeming to be yelling. “Food and shelter are but the basics of life,” he was saying earnestly, “but basics can easily become a distraction. There is more potential within you than you can imagine until you have touched it!”

“He doesn’t come every day,” Anita murmured, the four of them including Arlund now standing just outside the storehouse. “But when he does, it’s always him. They’re organized; they each have their own turf to preach. I suspect he makes rounds to other places when he’s not here.”

“Those people look cornered,” Juniper said quietly. Indeed, the street preacher’s audience consisted of three uncomfortable-looking monks and a dozen or so people in ragged clothes lining up for lunch. Most were local Punaji, and most were ignoring him, but the cultist’s current focus was on a Sheng family who had just been seated and were trying to eat—a man, woman, and two small children. They were visibly nervous.

“That is why this bothers me,” Anita said. “We have not wanted to challenge him, because he’s harming no one, and this place should be open to all who come here in good faith. But he makes the people we serve reluctant. They should feel safe here.”

“And so you ignore him,” Arlund scoffed. “Perhaps you feel such as he are better left for the Avenists to deal with.”

Anita made no reply, but glanced at him sidelong and very subtly shifted her weight to the balls of her feet.

“People,” Toby said firmly, “are not to be dealt with. Their actions, however, are another matter.” With that, he set off toward the Rust preacher with a long, even stride, Juniper immediately hurrying after. Arlund followed at a somewhat more sedate pace.

“Hard circumstances only seem overwhelming. The power to face them, to overcome anything life—”

“Excuse me!”

The cultist broke off his speech and turned to Toby, who approached him wearing a friendly smile.

“Welcome, friend. Are you hungry?”

“My needs are met,” the man said, his expression almost quizzical. He apparently was unused to being confronted by the Omnists here. Toby wore nothing to advertise his rank and his simple shirt and trousers did not exactly match the robes the local monks wore, but they were of the same rough cloth in the same shade of brown.

“That’s good to hear,” Toby said earnestly, still smiling. “Do you need a place to stay? There are several beds open.”

“I thank you for your concern,” the preacher replied, now with a wry note, “but I lodge with my brothers and sisters. We want for nothing.”

“Ah, I see. Did you perhaps need help finding work?”

“I don’t—”

“We have good relationships with several merchant guilds, dockmasters, and factories,” Toby continued blithely. “Omnu’s people are glad to feed those in need, but we are even happier to help people back to the path of being able to support themselves. If you’re willing to help with some of the compound’s chores for a few days so we can vouch for you in good faith, we can almost certainly arrange employment with one of our friend.”

“That isn’t—”

“I hope you’re not embarrassed about that metal limb,” Toby said solicitously. “I’m very sorry if you have experienced prejudice because of it. People can be nervous about things that are unfamiliar to them. Situations like that are exactly when the credibility of Omnu’s monks can give you just the boost you need. We find that most people have the strength inside themselves to prosper in the long run, but everyone needs a little help once in a while. There is no shame at all in that.”

The Rust cultist, apparently realizing Toby was not going to be brushed off so easily, finally turned to face him directly, and even sketched a shallow bow. He was an older Punaji man, gray-haired and with a lined face, like the woman from the docks yesterday—and like her, more fit and vigorous than it seemed someone his age ought to be. He had no additional metal touches, however, only his right arm. Its design was unique compared to hers, lacking any visible wires or pulleys and the fingers having a distinctly spider-like quality.

“All of this is very encouraging to me to hear,” the cultist said, once again using the booming voice with which he proselytized. “I could not agree more—the power is within all of us, all the power we could ever need. For just that reason, I have no need for charity. I come to spread that power, to awaken my fellow beings to their own glorious potential!”

“Ah, I see,” Toby said brightly. “Well, we always welcome volunteers! I assure you, no profession of faith is required to either receive or offer help here. There are plenty of things to be done around the compound. I can introduce you to the Abbot, if you want to help—he can most efficiently show you where we most need another pair of hands.”

Juniper had been grinning openly throughout this conversation, and now smothered a giggle behind her hand. The Rust cultist glanced at her briefly before returning his attention to Toby.

“I… That is, I am not at liberty to involve myself with…the cults, so directly,” he said, his voice softening as he was clearly thrown off his rhythm. “I only come to spread the truth.”

“In that case,” Toby said, still with his welcoming smile, “I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave.”

The pause which followed emphasized the silence that had fallen over the courtyard. Monks, petitioners, and Toby’s group alike now watched this confrontation as if afraid to breathe.

“It was my understanding,” the cultist said finally, “that this space was open to all.”

“That’s precisely it,” Toby agreed. “All are welcome here. Anyone may come and receive a helping hand, without expectation of repayment or pressure to convert. No one here shall be preached at, unless they ask to learn more of Omnu’s teachings.”

“Ahh.” The man from the Rust tilted his chin up, looking satisfied as if he had scored a point. “I understand, now. Perhaps Omnu feels threatened by a voice which speaks with power, and does not parrot his dogma.”

“Omnu is threatened by nothing,” Toby said calmly, his smile undiminished. “And more importantly, Omnu does not permit anyone under his protection to be threatened. Or harangued, or pressured. Not by his own monks, and not by anyone else. Now, may I offer you a bowl of rice before you go?”

“I’m not sure this one understands how gods work,” Arlund snorted. A few soft chuckles sounded from the assembled watchers. The cultist glanced fleetingly in their direction.

“More to the point,” he continued forcefully, “you will find that the truth is not to be silenced.”

“I have no interest in silencing you,” Toby said pleasantly. “I encourage you to live your truth and share it however you will. Just not here.”

“You bail a leaking boat with your hands,” the man retorted, pointing dramatically at Toby with his metal hand. “All the tools you need to plug the hole lie within easy reach, but you will not see them. And worse, you try to hide them from those who do! Here you sit, growing tomatoes and handing out rice, and what does it do for the world? I speak of change. Of progress. Of power! The power to—”

“I asked you to leave.” Toby’s smile had vanished, and his voice now grew notably more even. The watching monks watched with increasingly visible alarm. “Please, friend, don’t compel me to insist.”

The cultist actually grinned. “Or perhaps your tomato vines will silence me for you? Nature is well and good, my child. Too much reliance on it blinds you to the truth, however. The truth that you can become more!”

He punctuated this pronouncement by brandishing his right arm high, forming a metal fist; the short sleeve of his shirt fell to the shoulder, displaying more of its coppery surface.

“Hah! Why ask the question? Trust your eyes, my sister.” The cultist, still grinning, now held out his metal hand toward her. “My frailty has become my greatest strength. Flesh and blood is only—”

“You’re all just animals, you know,” she said. “Flesh and blood and spirit and mind. That’s nothing but a tool. You haven’t conquered or overcome or changed anything, any more than a monkey using a rock to crack a coconut.”

“Wherever a voice is raised in opposition to my message,” the cultist declaimed, “it does so with exaggerations and lies—those who oppose the truth have no better weapons! I stand before you, living proof that mortal man is more than nature would have him be. And there is nothing unique in me! Within each of you is the power—”

He was interrupted by the chorus of gasps as Juniper removed her ring. Most of the assembled Punaji looked nonplussed, clearly unfamiliar with dryads. A few reacted with wide eyes, however, and the monks dropped to fighting stances in unison. The Sheng mother and father immediately abandoned their meal, grabbing their children and retreating to the far corner of the courtyard.

She stepped forward, while the cultist gawked at her in astonishment, and grabbed him by the upper arm before he could retreat.

“Nature,” she said, seizing him just above the wrist with her other hand, “always wins. Always.”

With a dreadful screech of rending metal, she ripped his forearm clean off at the elbow. The cultist yelled in alarm, staggering backward with sparks flashing from the wrecked joint. Arlund’s derisive laugh boomed across the courtyard, almost drowning out the imprecations which followed. Almost, but not entirely.

“You whore!” the cultist raged, skittering back a few steps from the dryad. “You brutal—you vicious…thug! Animal!”

Baring his teeth in a snarl, the preacher took a step forward. “Give that back!”

“Oh?” Juniper said innocently, holding his arm behind her back. “You want me to even those up for you?” She grinned broadly and directed her gaze to his left, flesh and blood arm.

For a tense moment, the man glared at her, bristling with rage.

Then, suddenly, her smile collapsed. “Get the hell out of here,” she ordered curtly.

He stood his ground, clenching his remaining fist.

Juniper very deliberately brought the metal arm up, stuck it between her teeth, and bit down. With a sound that was physically painful to the ear, the whole thing bent noticeably in the middle.

Still spitting curses, he turned and fled back into the street.

“Fool,” Arlund grunted. “Had he been smart, he would have controlled the situation by agreeing to help do chores when you asked him to. If they are all as prideful and as stupid as that, this will not be a difficult hunt. I will see where he goes.” He nodded respectfully to Juniper and then strode out, turning in the direction the preacher had gone.

Toby heaved a deep, long sigh, then turned to his classmate. “You okay, June?”

“Yeah…I think so,” she said, now frowning pensively down at the metal arm in her hand. The odd spark still flickered from its elbow joint, and as they watched a tiny arc of electricity snapped in the tear just made by her teeth. “Thanks for thinking of me. I’m a little nervous about being that aggressive, but… At the same time, it’s part of me, y’know? Sheyann says repressing it would probably just backfire. It’s like Professor Ezzaniel is always saying: control, control, control. Only exert force to the degree you can control it. I’m doing my best to harness those predatory instincts.”

He nodded, reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “You are more than just a predator, you know.”

“All the sapient races are predators,” she said in some irritation, then pointed at her face with two fingers. “Eyes on the front of the head is for depth perception, so you can gauge the distance between you and what you’re chasing. Herbivores have eyes on the sides of the head, to scan for threats.”

She nodded, looking smug. “You’re not the only one who can be pedantic. Well, anyway.” Grinning, she held up the bent arm. “Fross wanted a sample, after all!”

“Yeah.” He sighed and gazed around them; the monks were only just beginning to relax, but everyone who had come for lunch was now huddled against the walls. “Well…so much for not riling up the Rust. I wonder how much luck the others are having.”

Schwartz threw up his hands in disgust and stomped over to his desk. Behind him, acrid smoke wafted from the charred spell circle inscribed on the center of the floor in his tower room. Even the chalk lines had burned in places; the reagents deposited at specific points around the diagram were a total loss.

He flipped open the grimoire from which he was working, hands moving more angrily than he normally handled books, but still with care for the pages, and held it up to his face as if proximity would reveal hidden meanings previously missed.

“Yes…yes…no…obviously… Yes, I did that. Double-checked the… Uh huh. It’s all right!” He snapped the book shut and made to slam it back down on the desk, but caught himself at the last moment and laid it down more respectfully. “Why isn’t it working?”

The last was directed at Meesie, who had been chittering for the last few minutes; now, finally having his attention, she began hopping up and down, waving her tiny arms. Schwartz frowned. “What is it?”

She hopped in place once more, then scampered deftly up the bookcase adjacent to the desk and then across its top, finally leaping onto the narrow lintel above the door. The little elemental paused atop this, sitting precariously upright despite only having an inch of space, and placed one of her little hands upon the warding charm he had hung over the door. She bobbed her head twice, squeaking insistently.

“Hm.” Schwartz narrowed his eyes. “Hm. I suppose… You may be onto something there, Meesie. An arcane spell signature would interfere with elemental conjuration, it’s known to do that. But no, that doesn’t make any sense.” He turned and began pacing back and forth in front of the ruined circle, frowning and rubbing his chin in thought. “This is the Emerald flipping College, everything is warded to block loose arcane energy. It’s probably the most arcane-free place in the whole city. Can’t even get the fairy lamps to work…” He glanced at the light-globe handing from the center of the ceiling, which ironically was more technically a fairy lamp than the arcane devices which bore the name, being filled with tiny dancing light elementals. “Besides, if there were an arcane presence here I’d have sensed it, especially when I was trying to perform the craft.”

He trailed off, and came to a stop, eyes widening slowly. “Unless…”

Meesie gesticulated at him with both hands, squeaking in exasperation.

“Unless there was a highly focused spell targeting this room in particular,” Schwartz said, turning to face her, “carefully designed to penetrate wards and evade detection. What do you think are the chances?”

Meesie stood upright and pantomimed stabbing with a sword, then stuck out her tongue and blew a very tiny raspberry.

“Syrinx.” Schwartz nodded, his expression grim. “She’s done it before, to Prin’s squad. Who have just left the city, so if she’s chosen now to start chasing after me again… Good work, Meesie, well spotted. C’mon, let’s get this cleaned up.”

He held out a hand and the little fire-rat launched herself from the door frame, landing on his arm and scampering up to his shoulder.

“Time for an altogether different sort of spell,” Schwartz said flatly. “Afraid our experiment will have to wait, partner. I believe I have just the thing for someone who thinks they can scry on a witch of the Emerald College.”

“Come on, I’ve got money riding on this shot!”

Jasmine stopped in the process of lining up her cue, straightened, and turned a flat stare on Tallie. “I could swear I heard someone point out to you that I’m new at this game and you specifically should not bet on it. Who was it? I know it was somebody…”

“Hey, are you gonna shoot, or are you gonna jabber?” her partner asked, leaning on his cue and grinning. Jasmine sighed, shook her head, and bent over the table again, carefully aiming her shot.

The pool hall was very quiet at this hour of the morning, with no customers present except for Jasmine, Tallie, and the two young men who had sauntered in and engaged them in a game, to Tallie’s apparent delight and Jasmine’s annoyance. Even the barkeep was asleep in the corner behind his counter. And yet, somehow, there was still a faint haze of smoke hanging near the ceiling. Between that and the heavily shaded windows, it could have been midnight for all those inside could tell.

“Here, I think I see where you’re having trouble,” Jasmine’s opponent said solicitously, stepping around to her side of the table. “Let me show you…”

“No, thank you,” she said without looking up.

“Oh, you don’t wanna do that, my man,” Tallie advised with a big grin while he moved in beside her and reached to lay his hand on hers on the cue.

“It’s okay,” he assured her, bending his body over hers. “Common beginner’s mistake. What you wanna—”

He didn’t even have time to grunt as Jasmine smoothly ducked out from under him and in the same motion swept the cue against the back of his knees. He hit the floor, legs shooting under the table, and only let out a curse when his skull bonked against the floorboards.

“Please refrain from touching me,” she said curtly, and bent over the table again.

His friend, sitting next to Tallie by the bar, laughed so hard he nearly slumped off the stool; Tallie just grinned. “Now, that’s what I shoulda placed a bet on!”

“What?” he chortled, wiping his eyes. “That Sharam would make a move, or that she’d knock him on his ass?”

“The second one. I hope your buddy gets the message the first time; I’ve seen Jasmine knock down Thieves’ Guild enforcers, Silver Legionnaires, and dwarves.”

“Damn! Now that sounds like a story!”

“It’s several stories. Long ones, too. Maybe I’ll tell you later, if we meet up again.”

Jasmine finally took her shot; the cueball grazed three other balls in passing, all of which rolled a short distance and stopped. She sighed and backed away from the table, frowning.

“Looks like I’m set up to win this one,” the other man said to Tallie as Sharam stepped back to the table, now silent and looking disgruntled.

“Eh.” She waved a hand. “Girl wasn’t wrong, I never had much chance on that wager. It’s all for the fun; that’s why I don’t bet more than pocket change.”

He grinned and leaned closer, watching Sharam silently sink his second ball in a row. Off to the side, Jasmine studied her opponent’s moves through narrowed eyes. “So, I can tell how come I’ve never seen her in here before, but you seem more comfortable in a place like this. Why haven’t we met before now? You two new in town, or just in the neighborhood?”

“Neither,” she said with amusement. “Long story, like I said.”

“Well, we’ve got time,” he murmured, shifting to lay his arm along the bar behind her. “It’s gonna take Sharam a while to finish trouncing your friend, there. How ’bout—”

“Whoah, boy.” Tallie leaned away and gave him a look. “Hold your horses, and keep your hands to yourself. Nobody here but you is that fast.”

He opened his mouth to issue a no doubt charming rebuttal, then caught Jasmine’s eye. A second later he processed that she was staring directly at him, now, her pool cue balanced lightly in both hands. Moving carefully as if to avoid startling a skittish animal, he shifted in the other direction on his stool, sliding the offending arm back into his own space. “Fair enough, my apologies, pretty lady. A girl as good-looking and charming as you always makes me lose my head a little bit. Don’t be shy about saying so if I overstep; last thing I want is to make you all uncomfortable so soon after we’ve met.”

“You really don’t have to worry about that,” she said dryly.

“That’s good to hear! I hate girls who can never say what they really—”

“FUCK!”

Sharam backed away from the table and slammed the butt of his cue against the floor, everyone now staring at him. “Fucking piece of shit…”

“Hey, man, relax,” his friend suggested. “You missed a shot. It happens. It’s just a game.”

“You did pretty well for quite a few shots, considering that,” Jasmine pointed out mildly. Sharam rounded on her; she raised an eyebrow, and he hesitated. Tallie’s earlier remarks had been well within his earshot.

“Sharam,” Kaspar said firmly, leaning forward. “You are acting like a great big toddler. In front of two pretty girls we just met. Come on, man, it’s too early for this. Let her take her turn.”

Sharam snorted and flounced away a few feet, where he leaned against the nearest table and folded his arms, visibly sulking.

“Wow,” Tallie murmured in a tone low enough not to be audible to him. “Prince Charming.”

“Sharam’s a good guy,” Kaspar said easily. “Just doesn’t like losing. Nobody’s perfect.”

Jasmine leaned over the table, lining up her cue, then paused. For a long moment, she just stood there, apparently lost in thought.

“Today?” Sharam suggested in a snide tone. Kaspar sighed.

Jasmine straightened up, frowning, and shifted. This time, she crouched instead of leaning, bringing herself closer to the level of the table, and moved the cue into position again. She shifted it back and forward a couple of times, then stopped and changed her grip, holding it far closer to the base with her dominant hand.

“The objective is to hit the ball with the stick,” Tallie said helpfully. “Remember? We went over that before the boys came in.”

Eyes narrowed, Jasmine changed her grip again, experimentally waggling the cue and holding it closer to the front now.

She ignored all the byplay. Jasmine straightened up again, her head turning as she clearly took stock of the whole table and the positions of every ball. Then she crouched again, moved her cue back into position…and began fiddling with the position of her left hand directing its tip.

Sharam tossed his cue onto the table behind him; the clatter was sharp in the quiet morning. Jasmine didn’t flinch, though Tallie winced. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, I’m gonna go take a leak. Somebody yell for me when this is—”

This time he jumped at the sudden, sharp clack of the cue ball striking another, which shot straight into a side pocket.

Tallie and Kaspar both straightened up. “Whoah,” she muttered. “Where’d that come from?”

Sharam also stood, now frowning deeply at his opponent.

“Mmm,” she mumbled, clearly to herself. “But you have to bank them off the walls… Hmm. I think it’s like…”

Jasmine circled around the table, lining up another shot in her unconventional position.

“There is no way,” Sharam began, and then she had banked the cue ball once into a cluster of other balls, one of which sailed right into a corner pocket; another drifted easily close to a side pocket, and she moved again.

“Hmm hm hm, no…not like a spear, like a sword.”

“The fuck are you babbling about?” Sharam demanded.

Jasmine didn’t acknowledge him, but shifted her grip a few inches forward on the cue. This time, she didn’t line up her shot at all, but dropped into a smooth and sudden crouch, jabbing sharply, and immediately sinking the ball she’d nearly made on the last shot.

“Too abrupt…” She shook her head, eyes narrowed in concentration, and paced a complete circle around the table, studying.

Tallie and Kaspar were both leaning forward now, elbows on knees, watching closely.

“I thought you said she was new at this,” he murmured.

“She said she was,” Tallie replied. “I’m still lost how she’s sinking balls holding her cue that wrong…”

They all watched, equally mystified and Sharam increasingly furious, while Jasmine continued systematically putting the remaining balls into pockets. As the last few went down, her expression shifted from a frown of concentration to an increasingly satisfied grin. With the final deposit of the 8 ball into a corner pocket, she straightened up so fast she actually bounced, beaming. “Hey, I think I get this game!”

That did not improve her opponent’s mood.

“That’s—you fucking—you played me!” he spat, clenching his cue in both hands.

Unfortunately, Sharam heard that too. “You shut the fuck up!” he bellowed at his friend. Behind them, the bartender let out a disgruntled mutter, but incredibly did not wake up. “You fucking bitch, you played me!”

Jasmine watched him without visible alarm, idly turning her cue over in her hands. “We played each other. I thought that’s what we were doing. I didn’t want to, if you’ll all recall.”

“This is a hustle!” He stepped aggressively closer, baring his teeth. “You set me up!”

“The worst thing I ever did,” Jasmine said quietly, “was take a weapon to a silly boy who yelled in my face the way you’re doing now. I’ve regretted that ever since. That is the only reason you’re not already bleeding on the floor.”

He actually bellowed like an animal and rushed at her with a fist, seeming to forget he was holding a pool cue in his other hand.

Jasmine slipped to one side as deftly as a breeze, and thunked the heavy end of her cue against the back of his head almost as an afterthought. Sharam went down, and stayed down.

“In hindsight,” she said, “I’m glad I didn’t know how to manipulate dumb boys back then.”

“Hey,” grumbled the bartender, blinking blearily at them. “Fuck are you kids doin’? No fightin’. Take it outside.”

“I thought you said you’d never played pool before,” Tallie said accusingly some minutes later, as they hastened up the street back toward the Imperial Casino. The surrounding district was carefully managed to suit the Guild’s needs; its main avenues contained shops which catered to the Casino’s well-heeled clientele, while threaded throughout the back alleys—sometimes within the same buildings—were a much seedier class of establishments, such as the billiard hall.

“I haven’t,” Jasmine said, her expression again thoughtful. She drew in a breath and let it out, causing a puff of mist in the morning cold. “I’m not sure I was doing it right, but really, it’s all forces and angles, isn’t it? I know quite a bit about that; I’ve been training in it since I could walk. Just had to frame it the right way in my mind to work with those skills.”

“I think you’re lucky you can kick everybody’s ass, if you’re gonna run around doing stuff like that,” Tallie said, grinning. “General tip, people who hand out in pool halls don’t appreciate surprises of that nature.”

“Hm. You know, we could do this.”

“Jas, babe, we’ve done it. It’s done. It was nice of you to let the boys keep their money for a healing potion, but seriously, you won. Maybe ‘fair and square’ is overstating it, but…”

“No, no.” Jasmine took her hands out of her coat pockets to gesticulate, her face becoming more animated. “I mean, we could do it! Again, repeatedly! It’s like a con, don’t you see? I’m positive I could pretend to do it badly again, that part can’t be hard. We get people to bet, thinking they’re taking money from a bad player, and then I beat them!” She actually laughed. “Now that I’ve thought of it, it’s so simple! I wonder if anybody’s tried this before? Anyway, at least Style can’t get on me for being sheltered, if I can actually come up with a good grift.”

She came to a stop, realizing Tallie had already done so. The other apprentice was standing a few feet back, staring incredulously at her.

Jasmine frowned. “What?”

“Yoo hoo! Hey, girls!”

“Oh, hey, Schwartz,” Tallie said, turning and waving. Schwartz came panting up to them, slightly out of breath. “What’s up? You look like you’ve been running. Were you looking for us?”

“Yeah,” he wheezed, leaning against a convenient lamp post. “Sorry, gimme a sec… Yes, had to backtrack a bit. I had a spirit guide showing me toward you, but that’s a class of divinatory magic and the fae branches are notoriously imprecise…which, ah, is neither here nor there. Are you two all right? You’re alone?”

“We’re just peachy,” Tallie said cheerfully. “Our very own Jasmine has just invented pool hustling. Why, what’d you need us for in such a hurry?”

“This wouldn’t have to do with that business at the temple the other day, would it?” Jasmine asked in a more sober tone. “Oh! Hi, Meesie.”

The elemental had leaped from Schwartz’s shoulder onto hers, and squeaked delightedly, standing up and patting Jasmine’s cheek.

“It’s all right, she helps against the cold.” She lightly scratched the top of Meesie’s head with a fingertip, causing the elemental to cheep ecstatically.

“Okay, I want one of those,” Tallie announced.

“Anyhow, yeah, it’s not a strictly social visit,” Schwartz said more seriously, standing up straight and smoothing his hair, which was windblown after his run. “We had a bit of an incident earlier this morning in my room. I was trying to—um, never mind, that’s a long story. The point is, my fae casting was being disrupted, and I eventually figured out it was due to an arcane scrying spell focused on my chamber.”

Meesie ducked out from under Jasmine’s hand and stood upright, squeaking indignantly.

“Someone was scrying on you?” Tallie asked, frowning. “Shit, that’s creepy. Last time anybody scryed on us it was some bad fucking news.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “My first thought was Bishop Syrinx, of course.”

The two apprentices exchanged a glance.

“Why of course?” Tallie asked.

Schwartz scowled, his shoulders shifting as he drew in a deep breath. “We have a history, let’s leave it at that. When I find somebody being invasive or hostile toward me with unknown intent, I have good reason to immediately think of Syrinx.” Meesie gathered herself up, and then leaped back to his shoulder, where she snuggled against his neck. He reached up to pat her absently.

“She’s a piece of work, all right,” Jasmine said in an oddly inscrutable tone. “Syrinx has a reputation even beyond the Sisterhood.”

“I never heard of her before all that fuckery with the dwarves,” Tallie protested. “What reputation?”

“Avenists don’t generally enjoy bureaucracy, or appreciate the Church getting into the Sisterhood’s business,” Jasmine said. “The post of Bishop tends to go to someone likely to be…well, not exactly wanted around in the Temple. Syrinx has the temperament of a shark, so she’s useful in a political post for the very same reasons she can be dangerous to be around. High Commander Rouvad believes she has her on a tight leash. I…am less certain of that.”

“So am I,” Schwartz agreed, now studying her thoughtfully. He abruptly blinked as if remembering what he was supposed to be doing. “Oh, um, but I was explaining… Well, anywho, I investigated before rushing off to do anything. First of all, understand that I live in the Emerald College, and I’m a practicing witch, so anybody managing to scry on my room is serious business; they have to penetrate all kinds of layers of defenses to get at me, and then evade my own detection. But yes, it was a scrying spell, I found that out in the course of flooding the space with fae energy and shattering it. That may’ve caused some very uncomfortable feedback for the perpetrator.” He paused, looking smug, and cleared his throat. “But anyway. Before I went charging off after Bishop Syrinx, obviously, I did some divinations of my own to figure out what was going on. And…it’s not her. What I found out is that it does indeed have to do with you guys and what I just helped you with.”

“Can you, uh, be a little more specific?” Tallie prompted.

“I really, really can’t,” he said with a rueful grimace. Meesie nodded and shot a scolding chitter at Tallie. “Oracular divination of the kind accessible through fae spirits doesn’t work like arcane scrying. It doesn’t give precise, tactical information; it’s more like interpreting poetry. You know, how prophecies are always phrased vaguely enough to cause trouble in the old bards’ stories? It’s like that.”

“That sounds like a huge pain in the ass,” Tallie grunted.

“Kinda.” Schwartz shrugged. “What it is good for is emotional stuff. Intent, threat…things like that. You can get a general view of who is or is not out to get you, how hostile they are, maybe even why they’re after you to a lesser extent, but not how close they are or what weapons they’ve got. So…that is what I could get. Basra Syrinx, while she feels about me pretty much the way I do about her, isn’t interested or involved right now. I couldn’t get any kind of bead on whoever was doing high-level scrying spells at my room, but the spirits I consulted pointed me in your direction.”

“Creepy,” Tallie muttered.

“It’s…actually funny you mention the Bishop, Schwartz,” Jasmine said slowly.

His expression hardened. “Why? What now?”

“We have been having additional trouble from that,” Tallie explained. “And apparently we pissed off somebody corrupt within the Sisterhood. A priestess and a few legionnaires came after us, tried to throw both of us and Layla in jail for questioning on false charges. Syrinx showed up, ripped her a new one, and got us out.”

“She seemed to already have some kind of grudge against Sister Falaridjad,” Jasmine added, “and it looked good and mutual.”

Schwartz straightened bolt upright, accidentally emphasizing how tall he was without his slight customary slouch. “Did you say Falaridjad?” Meesie squealed, puffing up in alarm.

Jasmine and Tallie glanced uncertainly at each other again.

“Yes,” Jasmine said slowly after a pause. “Ildrin Falaridjad. I made a point of remembering the name; there aren’t so many corrupt priestesses in the Sisterhood that one is worth ignoring. Don’t tell me you know her, too.”

“Ohhhh, boy,” Schwartz whispered, dragging a hand slowly down his face. “I think we may be in real trouble.”

“Uh huh, sounds like we’re definitely gonna want to hear some of this long story,” Tallie said firmly.

“Uh, yeah, I pretty much agree,” he said, breaking off when she held up a finger in his face.

“I’ve just had another thought,” Tallie stated. “If we know there’s crooked elements in the Sisterhood of Avei, and them and the Collegium of Salyrene were the two cults we pissed off doing this, and Schwartz just got pinged by some mage who’s either really powerful or just knows enough about the College to get through its magic defenses…”

“Oh, that is not good,” Jasmine whispered.

“Crap,” Schwartz said feelingly. Meesie huddled herself behind his ear. “I…had that thought myself, actually. It’s why I came to check on you guys rather than going right to my superiors to report a breach in the wards, which I sort of should have…”

“I think we’d better find the others,” Jasmine said. “Quickly.”

“Right, right,” he agreed absently. “They should be here when I explain…”

“Yes, that,” she said with mounting impatience, “but if scryers are hunting our group…”

“Oh, crap,” Tallie yelped. “Come on, we gotta move!”

“Where are we going?” he demanded, trailing along after as they set off toward the Casino at a pace just short of a jog.

“Find our friends,” Jasmine said tersely. “Report this to the Guild. And get a secure place for you to lay out for us what’s happening.”

“Hang on, now,” Tallie protested. “We know at least two cults are corrupted. How much can we trust the Guild? All systems, remember.”

Jasmine came to a stop, her eyes widening. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

“I said not involved with this. Glory is one of the best people there is, yeah, but we don’t know yet who’s into this and who’s not, and if there’s one thing Glory is, it’s connected.” Tallie chewed her lip in consternation. “I bet we can find out, but not till we’ve done some investigating, and that means getting a place to start and some help. In fact the only person we know is aligned against these crooked cultists…”

“It wasn’t much of a town, but it was what I had. After living in the capital, I actually let myself think things would be different out here. Quieter. More…decent, somehow. More fool, me. The truth follows you everywhere you go, the fact that people, all people, are exactly the same: no damn good. Human nature covers everything like a thin, greasy film of mold. Serves me right for thinkin’ I was safely out of the business.

“I knew the lady was gonna be trouble the second she walked in, and not just ‘cos I’ve developed a healthy skepticism toward pretty girls wearin’ gold ornaments. No, you survive in the dirty business as long as I have, you just know. Even before they open their mouths, even before they give you the chance to appreciate the sway in their walk, that little voice pipes up in the back of your head, warns you: ‘this one’s trouble.’

“You better believe I listen to that voice. I learned the hard way, it’s never wrong.”

“What the hell is he doing?” Tellwyrn demanded incredulously, turning to the desks at which the other two men present were seated.

“Oh, if you only knew how many times a day I ask myself that question,” Moriarty muttered, not looking up from whatever he was writing.

“He appears to be narrating,” Finchley said helpfully. He was lounging comfortably in his seat, currently in the process of folding a paper glider.

Fedora grinned insouciantly and swung his legs off his desk, bounding upright. “Hey, I gotta practice! I’m planning to write a novel. I was gonna write my memoirs, but I got to thinking and everything interesting I’ve ever done is actually classified, or would tip off some very annoyed people who to come hunting for. There’s totally a market for detective fiction, but everybody’s publishing frontier stories right now—”

“Don’t quit your day job,” Tellwyrn said brusquely, “and I’m not just saying that as the person who pays you to do it. Moriarty, no offense, but what are you writing?”

“Incident report. Nothing serious, Professor, just Chase putting glue on our office chairs. I wasn’t even going to suggest a punishment; in his case there doesn’t seem much point.” Moriarty finally looked up, blinking owlishly. “Wait. Why would I be offended?”

“Because what you’re doing is aimless busy work, and everybody but you can see it at a glance,” Fedora informed him. “I encourage this, Professor; if he doesn’t have something to do, he starts cleaning the place, and that actually does get in the way, unlike the paperwork. Besides, having records actually can come in very useful. You never know.”

She shook her head. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but…where’s Rook?”

“On gate duty,” Moriarty grumbled. “Which is to say, having a nice nap.”

Tellwyrn regarded him in silence for a long moment, which he did not notice, being absorbed in his writing again. Finchley paused in his folding, looking uncertainly up at her, while Fedora leaned against his desk, watching with an expectant little grin.

“It’s good to have you home, boys,” Tellwyrn said finally, cracking a small smile.

“Good to be back, Professor!” Finchley replied brightly.

“You.” She pointed at Fedora. “With me. I want a word.”

“I am yours to command!” he declared, bouncing upright. She snorted and brushed past him on the way to the stairs.

The guardhouse, in keeping with Tellwyrn’s somewhat gothic taste in architecture, came complete with a battlemented watchtower rising a full story above the rest of the structure. It was even with the top of the old campus wall, and afforded an excellent view of both the construction underway in the new extension, and down the mountain and across the prairie below Last Rock. Fedora followed her all the way up the winding stairs without comment, and leaned carelessly against the crenelated wall when they arrived, folding his arms and watching her expectantly.

“This is new,” Tellwyrn said, running her hand along the telescope mounted on the wall. “What exactly did you plan to do with it?”

“Give business to the lens grinder who the town blacksmith hired,” he said cheerfully. “And, more importantly, form a connection and be seen supporting local industry. Mission accomplished. I mean, it’s good for playing pirate and not much else; I figured you’d object if I had it mounted facing the campus.”

Tellwyrn turned to him and planted her fists on her hips. “I’m embarrassed to admit I didn’t realize what you were up to until I had the kids safely in Puna Dara.”

“They all settled in, then?”

“They’re fine,” she said curtly. “More to the point, they’re collectively a force which held back a demon invasion. Even without Shaeine and Trissiny, those students are nothing to be taken lightly. Which means anyone looking to attack this campus in any way would have to deal with them first. Just because I acknowledge the reality, Fedora, does not mean I want you taking steps to encourage an assault on my University, especially without consulting me first!”

“That actually wasn’t the point,” he said, his tone and expression serious now. “My thinking was that anyone planning to attack the campus would need to remove them first, and with all respect to your teaching methods, that particular group doesn’t do subtle very well. The Sleeper outmaneuvered them; the kinds of forces we’re dealing with definitely could. Taking them off the campus removes the likelihood of something permanent being done to them before they can react. And more importantly, Professor, they aren’t the keystone of this campus: you are. So long as you’re around and in charge, nobody’s going to launch anything too aggressive.”

“But,” she said, narrowing her eyes, “getting them to launch something aggressive is what you say we want.”

He nodded. “When the time comes, however. When we’re ready. Getting the sophomores out of the way protects them and gives us the power to determine the timing of this future confrontation. Now, all we have to do to create an opening is send you off the campus.”

“Like we just did,” she snapped. “If you expect me to leave the defense of my students entirely to you—”

“Give me credit for a little basic sense!” he protested. “Hell, no. Depending on what might be coming at us, the last thing I want is to be dealing with it and not have you around for backup. The point is that we can fake them out. You can teleport across the world in an instant and I’m sure you have some measures for illusion and stealth in your arsenal. Bombastic bully or not, I can’t imagine you get to be called ‘archmage’ without having at least that much versatility. When the time comes, we let it be known that you’re away, the point being that you’ll be back to spring the trap.”

“Hm,” she grunted, folding her arms. “When the time comes…?”

“We’re nowhere near that point,” he said seriously. “I’m following the rumor mill in town; nothing but murmurs there, at the moment. No sign of unrest among the students, just concern for the Sleeper victims and ongoing efforts to wake them. I can’t get jack shit out of your new research fellows, which is to be expected considering most of them are career politicians, but we have to keep in mind that at least some of those are likely to be enemy agents. But nah, it’s far from time. I need to see a general shape for what’s coming before I can plan countermeasures. I’m still watching, Professor, don’t worry. I expect things to start moving fast once you officially announce that demon-summoning project.”

“Fair enough, I suppose,” she said grudgingly. “But with that said, Fedora, you are not to go over my head like this. If you make plans, I am to be included before they are enacted. Is that clear?”

“Now, hold on!” he objected, holding up a hand. “I wasn’t expecting the sophomores to move out that fast—if anything, I’m concerned about the timing. If they straighten out Puna Dara and get back here before we get our situation dealt with, we’re back at square one with additional complications. We were in front of some of the very people we don’t want knowing about this when I warned you they were moving, and you vanished before I could get you alone. I didn’t even know you were back on campus until you walked into my office just now. Believe me, Professor, I’m pretty comfortable working under somebody who comes and goes as she pleases, but if you expect me to keep you appraised of all of my movements, you’re gonna have to work with me here. It’s just not in my power to follow you zip-zap all over the continent at a whim.”

“I am still not getting you a Black Wreath shadow-jumping talisman,” she said flatly.

“I don’t know how much that would help in this instance,” he replied, “since you can’t shadow-jump to a person without being familiar with the landing spot, but for the record a number of my other projects would be a lot easier if—”

“No,” she snapped, then sighed and moderated her tone somewhat. “Still… Point taken. I can work to be a bit more accommodating, but so can you.” She pointed accusingly at him. “I know you didn’t go right from getting Raffi Chandrakeran drunk to that meeting; there was time for you to fill me in. If you’re planning anything that’s going to involve manipulating my students, I want to know about it as soon as the plans are somewhat formed. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am!” He came to attention and saluted. After a moment, under her stare, he sighed and resumed his habitual slouch. “I’m working against habit, there… In Imperial Intelligence, paperwork is such a fact of life it’s almost a given you do whatever you can get away with in order to get anything done. And needless to say, none of my previous employers…”

“You work for me now,” Tellwyrn said flatly. “This was your idea. You can either do it my way, or I can send you right back where you came from.”

“Oh, your way it is, no question,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “I just have to overcome some old habits, is all. But don’t you worry, Prof. I am nothing if not adaptable!”

The Punaji royal family apparently had breakfast in the open air when the weather permitted; at least, that was where the palace servants directed the princess’s classmates as they wandered out of their rooms in the morning.

Juniper was the last to arrive, and she brought a surprise.

“Look!” the dryad squealed, entering the wide balcony bunny-first. She had a firm grip on Jack and held him out in front of herself, while the jackalope squirmed and kicked impotently, clearly displeased with this state of affairs.

“June,” Ruda said in a strained tone, “what the fuck is that fucking rabbit doing here?”

“That’s a rabbit?” Anjal asked, tilting her head and frowning. “It’s huge. Are those antlers?”

“He’s not a rabbit, and you know it,” Juniper said reproachfully, re-settling Jack into a more comfortable position in her arms and stroking him soothingly. He stopped attempting to flail, though his antlers continued to jab her in the cheek, which seemed not to bother her. “It wasn’t my idea, I just found him in my room last night along with a note from Tellwyrn that Stew has better things to do than take care of him.”

At the head of the table, the pirate king cleared his throat. Rajakhan “Blackbeard” Punaji was an enormous man: tall, powerfully muscular, and with a spreading middle-aged gut atop that. His bushy eyebrows and even bushier namesake beard added to his imposing aspect, the effect not in the least diminished by streaks of gray. His voice, even in a discreet cough, was like the growling of a bear.

“I seem to recall reading that jackalopes are notoriously ornery creatures,” he rumbled. “Would this happen to be related to my seneschal declaring first thing this morning that she refuses to have the staff clean that room? I thought she was just afraid of getting eaten by a dryad.”

“I don’t eat people,” Juniper said defensively, tightening her grip on Jack, which caused him to kick again. His powerful hind legs gouged at her chest hard enough to bruise and draw blood, had she been human; she didn’t appear even to notice. “And I’m sorry about that. Jack is my druidic familiar, my first one, and he’s pretty wild; I’m still training him. Don’t worry, I will be responsible and keep him out of trouble, and I can clean up my own room. We do back at Clarke Tower.”

“Glad to hear that,” Anjal grunted, casually seating herself on her husband’s knee. Not a large woman to begin with, the juxtaposition made her look positively tiny. “I worry about little Zari getting spoiled at that place.”

“I can honestly say that that isn’t one of the things you should worry about,” Gabriel assured her. Beside him, Teal heaved a sigh.

“Hm,” Rajakhan grunted, absently wrapping an arm around his wife while giving Gabriel a flat look. “This is the one Zari stabbed?”

Ruda sighed heavily and gazed up at the sky.

“That’s me, sir!” Gabriel said cheerfully.

“I thought it was fucking stabbed,” Fross added, hovering in front of him. “You usually make a big deal about that part.”

“Well, I’m in the middle of breakfast, here. One should never whine on an empty stomach.”

The king turned his baleful stare on his daughter. “I thought these people were your friends. You can’t play as roughly with shorelanders as you would with Punaji, Zari. And I wouldn’t want you stabbing one of our people, either.”

Ruda pursed her lips for a moment before replying. “Arquin is a half-demon, Papa. He’s practically invulnerable. Pain and surprise make him transform—or they did, before he went and got all paladinized. So yes, I put a blade in his foot to make him flare up and spook the White Riders’ horses to get rid of them.”

“Yes, we coulda taken them,” she snapped, banging a fist on the table. “Easily! It was me, Arquin, and two paladins. But we were standing right in front of occupied houses and they had wands. Bystanders woulda been shot, or at least had their homes burned. I got rid of the fuckers without causing collateral damage. And I apologized, and I bought him new shoes.”

“Fair’s fair,” Gabriel agreed with his mouth full. “I really like these boots, Ruda. Very comfy, now they’re all broken in.”

“Mm.” Rajakhan nodded, seeming mollified, while Anjal gazed up at him in clear amusement. “Very well, that sounds like a good maneuver. So why do you apparently always complain about it, boy?” He frowned at Gabriel, who blinked in surprise. “Sometimes a man has to take one for the crew. It’s nothing to whinge about.” He broke off as his wife stuck a forkful of fish into his mouth, and gave her a sour look, but chewed obediently.

“Oh, don’t get on Arquin’s case,” Ruda said, scowling. “He’s a good guy to have at your back. It’s a running joke, is all.”

The king swallowed, still frowning, and demanded, “And who is Ruda?”

She sighed heavily, shoved her plate away and thunked her forehead onto the table.

“Relax, Raja,” Anjal said lightly. “A girl goes off to college and wants to reinvent herself, it’s completely normal. It’s not as if she’s raising a flag of rebellion against the crown.” She affectionately tugged at his beard. “Or marrying the captain who did so.”

“I hear you two had quite the courtship,” Teal said with a smile, looking somewhat less wan than she usually did these days. “I’d love to hear that story right from the source.”

Rajakhan coughed heavily. “Well, regardless. According to Tellwyrn, you lot are here to help us solve our problems, which we apparently can’t be trusted to do on our own.”

Ruda raised her head. “Papa, I brought them with me. These are my friends, and every one of them is a badass. I know what I’m doing.”

“I also know what you’re doing,” he growled. “And just because Tellwyrn chose to save face by endorsing this project doesn’t mean you weren’t running away from your responsibilities and butting in.”

“Now, see here,” she snarled, beginning to rise from her chair.

“Actually, your Majesty,” Toby said quickly, “we were hoping to get your take on this Rust issue before we start doing anything. Prince Raffi was very concerned about what’s happening here, but he’d been away from Puna Dara for a few weeks by the time we talked to him.”

“The Rust are not the first to try this gambit,” Rajakhan growled, “and I doubt they will be the last. The Punaji respect strength and straightforwardness, and mistrust those with ambition toward power. Others, other cults and rich people and captains, have done this very thing: carefully gathered a base of support to make the crown seem weak while toeing the line and doing nothing that provides a reason to move against them. It’s a fool’s plan. Even those who have succeeded in seizing power this way did not hold it long. We are a people who do not tolerate leadership that would rather play politics than actually govern. We have strong and healthy traditions to ensure this.”

“What happened to the Fourth Silver Legion changes the matter,” Anjal added seriously, even as she folded fish and curried rice into a piece of warm flatbread. “There is no proof that the Rust did this, but the circumstantial evidence is overwhelming. It is known that the Legion was coming here to keep an eye on them. No one else had a motive to attack Avei’s soldiers this way, and with those machine parts some of them wear, the Rust are an obvious suspect in any magical attack that has no precedent. No one understand how they work.”

“Is the suspicion not enough to move against them?” Toby asked.

The king blew out a snort, ruffling his beard. “Exactly—that’s their scheme. I have all the reason I need to root them out, and yet they’ve shown themselves capable of striking down the finest soldiers in the world, invisibly, from a distance. How can I fight this? And yet, every day that goes by, I make the crown look weaker due to my inaction.” Anjal leaned against him, and he accepted the flatbread sandwich from her and took a bite, chewing with a grim expression.

“And that is exactly where we come in,” Ruda said firmly. “I don’t know what the Rust are capable of and I do not give a fuck: we can take ’em. We’ve stood against hellgates and zombie uprisings, centaurs, bandits, what-the-fuck-have-you. I’m the princess of this country, and you guys are with me. So long as we deal with this, it doesn’t undercut Papa’s rule. It shows Puna Dara has the means to deal with its enemies as hard as they deserve, whatever they throw at us.”

Despite her defiant countenance, both her parents looked pensive.

“I’ve been thinking about this myself,” Gabriel said, frowning and pushing his plate aside to lean on the table. “And I think we need to be real careful not to fall into old habits, here. Considering the other civilized places where we’ve been sent to help…well, this situation is very different on a basic level. Sarasio, Lor’naris, even Veilgrad, all had in common that their societies were beleaguered and the leadership was fragmented, incompetent, or non-existent. We had to step in, basically take over, and organize folks to be able to look after themselves once we were gone. That’s not the case here.” He nodded to the king and queen. “The Punaji have their shit together and I haven’t heard anything to suggest the government here is less than competent. This is dicey because we’re dealing with an enemy of unknown capability, and the big problem is we can’t afford to antagonize them in the wrong way because that risks destabilizing Puna Dara. But that’s the issue: Puna Dara is stable, and once the Rust is out of the way, it’ll stay stable. This is a lot more straightforward than out other adventures.”

“In fact,” Toby said slowly, “this seems more like classic adventurer stuff than what we’ve dealt with before. It’s just an enemy to defeat.”

“Um.” Fross bobbed in place above the table, chiming almost diffidently. “I don’t mean to alarm anyone, but the way you describe it, what we’ve gotta do is remove the Rust subtly and carefully with a minimum of noise and mess, and let’s be really honest with ourselves, guys… That is not exactly our strong suit.”

Juniper sighed heavily. “I really miss Shaeine right now.”

Teal had been staring at the table; at that, she suddenly lifted her head. “I need to visit the Narisian embassy.”

There was a pause while everyone stared at them.

“There’s a Narisian embassy here?” Gabriel asked finally.

“Of course,” Anjal said, raising an eyebrow. “Tar’naris is very interested in maritime trade, now that it’s suddenly a possibility for them. They have an embassy here and consulates in all our cities along the east coast, as well as a presence in Onkawa, Ninkabi, and Tidecall.”

“It’s just like Shaeine did when we went to Tiraas,” Teal continued softly. “I’m the Matriarch’s daughter; within House Awarrion, I outrank the ambassador here. In order to avoid causing a political problem for her, I just need to put in an appearance and make it plain I am at her service, so there will be no question who is in charge among the drow in the city.”

“I wasn’t changing the subject,” Teal said firmly. “It’s the same thing. We came here with Ruda; we need to be seen, in public, making it clear we’re acting at her request. That way, anything that happens is clearly credited to her, and doesn’t look like there’s a random bunch of adventurers taking over in the city. Plus, as the princess, she has deniability; her actions will reflect on the king, but if it becomes necessary to distance the crown from anything we do, we’re not technically acting on his orders. It gives the royal family a little wiggle room, politically.”

“I appreciate the direction of your thoughts,” Rajakhan rumbled, “but it doesn’t quite work that way, here. If Zari causes trouble, that will reflect on me—the more so if I am seen as unable to control my own daughter.”

“I see,” Teal said, looking down at her lap.

“You’re not wrong, though,” Ruda said firmly, reaching over to squeeze her shoulder. “I do need you guys to publicly take my side. And, with apologies to everybody’s pride, let it be known that I’m calling the shots.”

“I don’t think anybody here is going to let their pride trip us up,” Toby said with a smile.

“So, then,” Anjal said, “what exactly are you planning to do?”

A pause ensued, in which they looked uncertainly at each other.

“I was afraid of that,” Rajakhan grumbled.

“Actually,” Fross chimed, “it seems sort of obvious to me. The core problem is we don’t know what these Rust are capable of and it’s too risky to antagonize the lot of them with an overt attack. So! What we need to do is secure a sample for study.”

“Excuse me,” said Ruda, raising a finger, “but just for the fuckin’ record we can entirely do that.”

“I wasn’t proposing to dissect anybody!” Fross exclaimed.

He sighed. “Well, thank goodness for that, I guess.”

“Exactly,” she chimed. “I mean, that would be creepy and unethical, and also probably not informative. Really, we just need to dissect the mechanical parts! If I can figure out what makes those work I bet I can learn a lot about their magic and how to counteract it!”

Toby heaved a long-suffering sigh and slumped down in his chair.

“So it’s a matter of strategy, then,” Gabriel said cheerfully. “How does one seize and dismantle a half-machine cultist? Maybe they’ll freeze up if we dunk one in the harbor? I figure they call themselves the Rust for a reason…”

“Actually, that’s a nickname that they’ve acquired in the city and not bothered to argue with,” said Anjal. “It’s not the actual name of their cult.”

“Oh?”

“They’re far too pretentious for that,” she said, curling her lip disdainfully, “though they at least have the basic discretion not to swagger too much where the public can see; Punaji would not be impressed by it. Their proper name is kept discreet, but we’ve made very certain to be kept informed of their doings. Among themselves, they are the Infinite Order.”